Family Matters
by WritersInk
Summary: Bobby's got an illegitimate daughter and she's on the run. She needs his help, but what isn't she telling him? NEW CHAPTER 25. COMPLETELY RE-WRITTEN! Overall spoiler warning: thru 4.02 only Rated M for a reason.
1. Chapter 1

Dean couldn't say what had woken him. One minute he'd been sleeping soundly, the next he was wide awake with all of his senses on red alert. Opening his eyes, he lay still, searching the darkness of Bobby's library for some sign of what had pulled him from his sleep. He sincerely hoped it wasn't Castiel again. He'd had enough of the angel in the past week to last him a lifetime.

A floorboard creaked softly from the direction of the kitchen. In less than a second, Dean flipped over and rolled to his feet, palming a sawed-off shotgun on his way up. Keeping to the shadows, he moved through the house. He swept through and cleared each room on the ground floor but came up empty. Sighing, he tossed his wariness up to nerves and started back towards the library only to stop short when he saw a figure at the bottom of the stairs.

Dressed in a dark hoodie and baggy jeans, the intruder stood with one booted foot planted on the bottom-most stair and one hand on the newel post. Dean ground his teeth and crept forward then rammed the double barrel of the shotgun into the prowler's back.

"Don't move, asshole," he growled seconds before an arm swung out and knocked the gun from his hands. It was followed by a round house kick that sent him skidding across the floor on his ass. His opponent advanced on him quickly, forcing Dean to block several jabs and another kick. The guy was pretty good, he'd give him that, but Dean knew he was better. He ducked another series of blows, landing a couple of his own before raising his right leg and delivering a solid front snap to the intruder's abdomen. Dean watched in satisfaction as the guy went down on one knee, holding a hand to his middle and breathing hard.

Smirking, Dean reached for the hood of the guy's sweatshirt. His hand never reached its target. With a sweep of one long leg, the prowler took his feet out from under him. The sound of the shotgun being cocked echoed loudly in the stillness of the house and Dean froze. Lying on his back in the middle of the foyer floor, he raised his palms in a show of surrender. A light came on upstairs drawing his attacker's attention and Dean gave the guy's thigh a hard kick. The idea had been to put the bastard on his ass but somehow he managed to land on Dean instead. The jarring impact of another body slamming into his wasn't quite as surprising as the breast that was suddenly filling his palm.

"Shit," the intruder muttered as she tried to get to her feet. Dean's free hand shot out and grabbed her hip. They grappled for a few seconds, twisting and rolling but Dean's superior strength won out. She ended up flat on her back and out of breath. Dean used his body weight to pin her to the floor and held her wrists above her head, the shotgun forgotten.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

She bucked against him and hissed, "Let me go."

"Not a chance, sweetheart," he whispered.

Heavy, hurried footfalls on the stairs cut off whatever she would have said. A heartbeat later, light flooded the room and Dean got his first glimpse of the woman who was lying beneath him. Her face was mostly obscured by her hair and the hoodie but what from what he could see of her, he'd wager she wasn't more than seventeen or eighteen. Kinda pretty, Dean acknowledged, but he preferred 'em a little older. Jailbait really wasn't his type.

"Dean?" Bobby asked from above them, shotgun of his own in hand. "What the hell is going on?"

Dean didn't get a chance to answer. The girl used his distraction to her advantage and wiggled out from beneath him. When she was back on her feet, she pushed back her hood and smiled.

"Charlie?" Bobby lowered his gun and blinked.

Shoving her hair out of her face, she said, "Hi, Dad."


	2. Chapter 2

_"Charlie?" Bobby lowered his gun and blinked. _

_Shoving her hair out of her face, she said, "Hi, Dad." _

* * *

Bobby's shock at finding his daughter in his home - and in the middle of the damned night no less - was short lived.

"What the fuck are you doing here, girl?!" he bellowed, grabbing her by her shoulders and giving her a hard shake. "Damn it, Charlie, I told you to stay away."

Charlie's eyes narrowed and she wrenched herself free of his grasp. "Well excuse me all to hell," she drawled sarcastically. "You didn't call me back for two whole days, Dad! That's just _so _not like you. Forgive me for being worried about my father. I mean seriously, what the hell was I thinking?"

"Watch your tone, young lady," Bobby warned.

"What are you gonna do, Dad? Ground me?"

Wagging a finger at his daughter, he replied, "You might be grown, but you'll never be too old for me to put you over my knee when you deserve it. I thought I made it clear that everything was fine. I told you not to come here, Charlene."

With a frustrated sigh, Charlie unzipped her sweatshirt and shrugged out of it before tying it around her hips. She really, really didn't want to tell him the real reason she was in Durham but she didn't doubt he'd make good on his threat. Hell, he still might.

"Guys, it's four in the morning. What's going on?" Sam said sleepily from the doorway, rubbing his eyes.

"_Now _you wake up?" Dean asked, shaking his head. "Why not five minutes ago when she had a gun in my face?"

Noticing the other person in the room, the younger Winchester knotted his brow in confusion. "Who's she?"

"She," Dean said as he tossed his brother a lopsided grin, "Is apparently the old man's daughter. Nice work, by the way, Bobby. She's a looker."

"Would you two shut your yaps," Bobby ground out. "You, young lady," he said to Charlie, "you're gonna march your butt back to Texas where you belong. I don't want you here. It's too damned dangerous."

_It's now or never_, Charlie thought. _Here goes_. "I've got nowhere else to go," she confessed softly.

"What do you mean you haven't got anywhere else to go? Where's your mother?" Bobby demanded.

"Cabo, I think. Or maybe it was Cannes. I don't know and frankly I don't care. She certainly doesn't."

"Well that answers half of my question. Wanna get to the reason why you're here instead of Houston?"

Charlie blew a lock of hair out of her eyes before answering, "I had another fight with Aaron."

She watched as understanding dawned over her father's features and his faced turned purple with rage. Five years earlier Charlie's mother had remarried for the fourth time, this time to a wealthy divorcee with a teenage son who had wandering hands and absolutely no concept of personal space. At sixteen he'd been a nuisance, at twenty-one he was a nightmare.

For the better part of the last year, he'd been consistently upping the ante. He'd graduated from leering to lewd innuendo and from there to full-on groping. While she and Bobby had never been close - she only saw him a couple of times a year when he passed through town - she'd trusted him three years ago when he'd told her she needed to learn to protect herself. Since then, Tae Kwon Do, Kung Fu and Jujitsu classes had been a weekly constant. She wasn't her instructors' best student by any stretch of the imagination, but she'd learned enough to keep Aaron at bay. Or so she'd thought.

The moment her mother had left on her extended vacation, Aaron had conveniently shown up at the house, claiming to have wanted to say goodbye. Charlie wasn't stupid. It had been obvious why he'd come. He didn't beat around the bush either, just came at her, all lips, hands, tongue and teeth. She'd soundly kicked his ass then sent him packing. She'd naively believed that would be the end of it.

"Did you kill him?" Bobby asked, not at all certain he wanted to know the answer. He didn't know whether to be disappointed or relieved when she shook her head.

"I wanted to," he heard her say. "God knows the fucker deserves it. Son of a bitch tried to rape me. Me!" She pounded her chest once in emphasis. She bit her lip and watched her father's face drain of color before filling again as the anger coursed through him. "I cut him though, cut him pretty bad," she admitted. "I left him bleeding on the bathroom floor. Aaron won't call the cops. He's not that stupid. But I can't go back there."

"I'll kill him," Bobby vowed, his voice thick with emotion.

"We'll help you," Dean and Sam said in unison, wearing matching expressions of fury. The Winchester brothers both shared a deep appreciation for the fairer sex though they each had their own method of showing it. The thought of some jerk off trying to force himself on a woman, especially one who was 'family', had them mentally ticking off all they ways they could make the dude beg for mercy.

"I don't want that on my conscience. I just need a place to stay for a little while," Charlie said tiredly.

The three men looked at one another. "No time like the present, fellas," Bobby announced, breaking the silence that had settled over the small group. With a quick, jerky nod of his head, Bobby sent them from the room.

The muffled sounds coming from the library said it all. They were leaving. The question of whether her father was going with them didn't have to be asked. She could see the answer in his eyes. In all these long years, Charlie had never once asked him what it was that he did. She hadn't wanted to know. Now, she wasn't so sure.

She'd had his address tucked away in case of an emergency and this certainly had qualified. But being in Bobby's house for the first time and getting a good look at the odd collection of religious and occult paraphernalia, she was suddenly very, very curious about the man who'd sired her. Too bad she wouldn't have the time. He was leaving to do whatever it was he did.

"Look, Charlie," he said, clasping her shoulder. "There's nothing I'd love more than to race down to Houston and carve that bastard up into little bits, but right now just ain't the time. Dean, Sam and me, we have a job to do. A pretty big one. I won't send you back to Texas, but you can't stay here."

Deflated, Charlie's shoulders sagged and she stared at her feet as she fought back the tears of frustration that burned her eyes. "I understand."

Bobby gave her shoulder a small squeeze. "I wasn't finished, Charlene. Like I said, you can't stay here. It's just too damned dangerous right now. Since I'm gonna worry about you every second you're out of my sight, you might as well just come with us."

"Really?" Hope caused her heart to leap in her chest.

"Really. But look, you're gonna have to do exactly what I say. No arguments. This is dangerous business, girl."

Raising an eyebrow she asked, "And exactly what business is that, Dad? Where are we going?"

Bobby swallowed hard and answered honestly, "We're going to hunt a demon."


	3. Chapter 3

"She's _not _coming with us," Dean argued, his voice hard and unyielding. "She's just a kid, Bobby."

Charlie looked up from where she sat on the couch and narrowed her eyes. "I'm twenty-two, jackass," she said before returning to the book in her lap. It was an encyclopedia of the supernatural, a beginner's guide of sorts or so her father had said, and while her eyes were fixed on the page her attention was on the conversation going on in the next room.

The introductions had been brief, a simple exchange of names followed by her father telling Dean and Sam she was coming along on the job - whatever that job actually was since he had yet to say. But he had, hadn't he? They were going to hunt a demon. A demon! Yeah right.

Charlie glanced up at where the three men stood in heated debate. She listened as Dean, the guy she'd tussled with earlier, repeatedly refused to allow her to come along. Like it was actually his decision.

She looked back down at the page in front of her. Under the heading of "My Date With a Demon" was a first hand account of a demon possession and the ritual that had followed, vanquishing the evil. Did her father honestly expect her to believe that ghosts, vampires, werewolves, and the like really existed?

"Yeah right," she mumbled, flipping a page.

"You say something, sweetheart?" Dean asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Scowling, she replied, "Would it matter if I had? You're doing enough shouting all on your own, big boy. I think they might've heard you down in Charlotte."

He ignored her. "She'll get herself killed or worse, one of us," he predicted. Dean knew he was pissing his friend off but he didn't want the girl's blood on his hands because let's face it, given the way things were headed, they were probably all gonna end up dead before this thing was done. "She's not coming, Bobby."

"So what? I should just leave her here for some new ugly to off? Or send her back home so that fucker can finish what he started? What would you do, Dean? Would you send Sam away if he came to you for help?"

No, Dean would have done anything he could to protect his brother. Hell, he'd already sold his soul for the kid. He couldn't blame Bobby for being equally as protective of his own daughter. But the fact of the matter was, however unintentionally, she was going to be in their way. Despite being a decent fighter, she was no hunter. She hadn't believed Bobby any more than he'd believed Castiel.

It was the pleading in the older man's eyes that won him over. Damn it. He just hoped he lived long enough to regret this.

"Fine, Bobby," Dean finally conceded. "But she's riding with you."

"As if I'd leave her alone with you for more than five seconds," his friend scoffed.

Listening, Charlie was jealous of the obvious affection between Bobby and the eldest Winchester. They shared a bond that she couldn't begin to comprehend. It wasn't fair. She'd only had small pieces of her father over the years, had never had the opportunity to know him the way Dean did. She was also irritated by Dean's harping on her being a 'kid' and 'in the way'.

"I can take care of myself," she announced annoyed with the entire situation.

"Really?" the blond asked. "And how is it you ended up here, exactly?"

"Go to hell, Dean," Charlie hissed throwing her book at his head. He dodged it easily and replied smoothly, "Been there, done that, darlin'. Ain't going back."

Sam cleared his throat, finally joining the conversation. "Look, we can either stand around and continue to waste time arguing or we can get on the road. We still need to track down Lilith before she opens another seal."

"Who's Lilith?" Charlie asked, her curiosity piqued by the venom in the taller man's voice when he'd said the name.

"Demon," came the unanimous reply.

"A demon," she repeated blandly. "Yeah. Right."

Dean waved a hand in her direction as if to say 'see, I told you'. Bobby shook his head and bent down to pick up the book he'd given Charlie to read.

"The way I see it, we got no choice. We'll educate her on the road. Between the three of us, we got enough experience to teach her to hold her own. Having a fourth gun on this one might not be such a bad idea."

* * *

Charlie couldn't exactly pinpoint what it was that had made a believer out of her. Maybe it was the unflinching conviction that all three of her companions shared but eventually she stopped rolling her eyes and started paying attention. As she did with any new pursuit, she threw herself into learning as much as she could as fast as she could. She absorbed text after text, even going so far as to make notes in a black and white composition book. When she'd filled that one, she began another and another. If these _things _were really out there, then she wanted to be prepared.

Dean's words echoed in her mind constantly. _"She'll get herself killed or worse, one of us." _ There was just something about the confident way in which he'd said them, so sure that she was going to screw up that really pissed her off and made her that much more resolute. She was determined to prove him wrong. So maybe she didn't have any real idea of just what she'd gotten herself into but it was obviously a big deal to her dad. She could do this and she wasn't going to let a prick like Dean Winchester stand in her way - no matter how good looking he was.

As the miles slipped by, she fired question after question, taking even more notes when they were answered. When Bobby asked if she was hungry, Charlie flashed him a bright smile and said, "Hell yeah."

They pulled into a small roadside café in the next town. The neon sign overhead flickered in the growing darkness of twilight. Inside, they took a booth in the back that gave them all a clear view of the building's front door. Stepping through that door had been like taking a step back in time. Everything had an old, fifties kind of feel to it. The black and white linoleum tiles and aqua painted walls reminded Charlie of 'Grease'. She half expected John Travolta to materialize and start singing.

After the bubbly waitress had taken their drink order, Sam excused himself to make a phone call and Bobby slipped out of the booth needing to use the restroom. And just like that Charlie and Dean found themselves alone for the first time. Neither spoke. They just sat there, trading glares. After two days on the road, the ice had yet to melt between them. He resented her presence every bit as much as she resented his relationship with her father.

"So," he said finally. "Twenty-two, huh? Funny, you don't look more than eighteen."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult?" she replied, crossing her arms over her chest.

Dean grinned, smugly. "Take it however you want."

"If this is your attempt at getting to know me, Dean, you're going to have to try a little harder than that."

He threw his arm across the back of the pink vinyl booth and studied her openly. If she'd been anyone else's daughter, Dean might have hit on her. He hadn't been lying when he'd told Bobby she was a looker. She wasn't a knock-out but she was pretty enough that she could easily grab a man's attention. Probably wasn't a good idea to think of Bobby's little girl in those terms. Shifting his observation to more neutral territory, he noted that her hair was long, light brown shot through with blond highlights, and she seemed to prefer to wear it up. That was good. If her hair was constantly falling in her eyes it would be a hindrance in a fight. Her skin was lightly tanned like most southern girls he'd ever seen. She didn't need a lot of makeup to enhance her looks and thankfully she didn't seem to be in the habit of wearing much. If he hadn't fought her and felt the firmness of her body for himself, he might have been concerned about her being able to keep up. The clothing she'd worn these past two days hid her body rather effectively and Dean couldn't help but wonder why. She was covered up from neck to ankle in a long-sleeved designer tee shirt and distressed jeans that he would bet even money cost over two hundred bucks. He snorted. Only a chick would spend that kind of cash on ratty jeans.

Across the table, Charlie tried not to fidget under his stare. Instead, she forced herself to return it, looking him over as closely as he was her. His pose might be nonchalant but she seriously doubted Dean Winchester had a playful side. He just seemed too focused, too intense. Maybe it was his alleged trip to hell and back, but somehow she doubted it. He might flirt with every reasonably cute waitress who crossed their path but deep down, Charlie suspected he was much more powerful than he appeared. That side of him, that barely leashed intensity scared her more than anything else.

Her hazel eyes narrowed on him as she quipped, "Shake your head, Dean. Your eyes are stuck."

"You don't like me much, do you?" he asked.

"Oh no, whatever gave you that idea?" she replied, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. "I mean, really. It's not as if you've gone out of your way to make me feel welcome on this little road trip. What with your constant jabs at my being younger than the lot of you. Calling me 'kid', 'little girl', and what not. As if you're some great paragon of the paranormal, some dark hero who's been there and done it all so I'd better fall at your feet and worship because you _allowed _me to tag along. Get over yourself, Dean."

Bobby chose that moment to reappear at the table. "For Christ's sake, can't the two of you get alone for five minutes without me having to referee?"

"Don't sweat it, Dad," Charlie said angrily as she slid out of the booth. "I'm leaving your golden boy in one piece for now." She brushed past her father and headed for the front door of the diner, bumping into Sam on her way out.

"What did you do?" he asked his brother when he reached the table.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Why do you always assume it's my fault?"

"Uh," Sam said, "'Cause it usually is. Never mind. I'll go find her. In case you didn't notice, the sun's gone down."

He grabbed his jacket from the booth seat and shoved his arms inside. Dean could be pretty stupid sometimes, especially when it came to women. Oh, he could sweet talk them into the sack, of that there was no doubt. But when it came to day to day dealings with chicks, he really was an idiot. The time he'd spent with Jess had taught Sam a lot and judging by the look on Charlie's face as she barreled past him, something Dean had said or done had hurt her.

Sam didn't have to look far to find her. She was sitting on the trunk of the Impala with her booted feet propped up on the car's chrome bumper. It didn't take a psychology degree to figure out she was doing it on purpose to piss his brother off. Chuckling, Sam walked over and nudged her with his shoulder.

"Hey," he said by way of a greeting.

Charlie didn't look up. Instead, she stared down at her hands. "What are you doing out here, Sam?" she asked in a small voice. "My dad send you?"

"Nobody sent me," he assured her as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. "You looked upset. I wanted to help."

She cut her eyes at him and raised an eyebrow. "Is this the Winchester version of 'good cop, bad cop'?"

Sighing, Sam replied, "It wouldn't hurt you to drop the sarcasm every once and a while, you know. I know my brother can be an ass most of the time, but he's a good guy and he's trying to do what he thinks is right."

"And treating me like a big fat pain in his butt is somehow right? What the hell did I ever do to him? I don't even know him," she whined, wincing at the shrill sound of her own voice.

"Try to look at it from Dean's perspective, Charlie. He's got a savior complex, our Dad drilled it into him by always harping on him about taking care of me. A week ago, an angel busted him out of hell and put him on a mission to stop a demon from releasing the devil from hell. The same demon who sent him to hell in the first place. So when I tell you not to take it personally, I'm not being condescending. He's worried that he won't be able to protect you if and when the time comes. He's worried he won't be able to protect all of us."

"And college psych rears its head and takes a bite out of my ass," Charlie grumbled. "I'm trying really hard not to point out just how dumb that line of thinking is. I meant it when I said I can take care of myself."

"Not yet you can't," Sam argued. "But you will be able to and soon. You're a fast learner. Just keep doing what you've been doing. Dean will come around, you'll see."

The corner of Charlie's lip turned up just a bit as she replied, "I kicked his ass, you know. Back at Dad's, I mean."

From the diner window, Dean watched as his brother threw his head back and laughed. He stomped on the tiny pebble of jealousy that sank in his gut. The last thing he was about to do was examine his feelings. That girly crap was Sam's department. What the hell could possibly be so damned funny? This was Charlie Sam was talking to, Bobby's smart-mouthed sour progeny. A woman without a sense of humor. Then his brother shifted his weight and Dean got a clear view of the woman and exactly where she was sitting. Oh hell no…


	4. Chapter 4

Dean never made it to the front door. Bobby's cell phone rang and after looking at the caller ID, he grabbed Dean's wrist and motioned for him to stay. The older hunter pressed the phone to his ear and listened intently to whoever was on the other end of the call. Their eyes met and reading the unspoken question, Bobby nodded and raised his hand giving Dean the 'wheels up' signal.

He felt kind of bad as he told their waitress they'd have to take their food to go. The fact that she'd just set it on the table might have had something to do with it. Dean grinned at her as he paid the check, the grin he used whenever he wanted something, and she was only too happy to box up their meals. He wasn't surprised to find her telephone number scribbled on the receipt. He pocketed it, just in case.

Scooping up the two plastic bags in his left hand, he asked Bobby, "What's up?"

"Got a line on where Lilith might be heading next," the older hunter replied. "Only a few hours away too."

"I take it we're not stopping for here the night then?" His friend shook his head. "Mind telling me where we're headed?"

Bobby pulled out his car keys and answered grimly, "Colorado."

* * *

A few hours ended up being closer to nine. An early snowfall had slowed their drive up the mountain towards Leadville. From what the radio DJ was saying the area was pretty popular with the ski crowd and the hotels and motels had been filling up all week. Dean didn't know how much money his brother or Bobby had but he hoped it would be enough. A lot of places tended to hike up their rates for this kind of thing.

After a stressful drive up the winding, snow-slick road that led to the small town, Dean was thrilled to see lights in the distance. He turned up the heat inside the car and followed Bobby's GTO as he pulled off at small motel. Judging by the lack of parking spaces, he didn't expect them to find a room, let alone two.

Dean was right. Bobby walked back outside shaking his head.

They repeated the same scenario at five more motels. When he got back into the car after walking out of the sixth, Charlie pulled out her cell and dialed American Express. When the customer service representative came on the line, she said, "This is Charlene Bedford, I'd like help finding a hotel room please."

Ten minutes later, they pulled into a parking lot next to a four-story brick hotel that looked like something out of a Louis L'Amour novel. Bobby immediately protested, saying that they couldn't afford the hotel's rates. Charlie argued that they were out of options. It was either this or freeze.

"I don't like it, Charlie," he said as he opened the car door and stepped out. "We're flying blind here. The last thing we need to do is run out of cash too soon."

She got out then leaned back in and reached behind her seat. She rummaged through her bag a moment before her fingers closed around her wallet. Flipping it open, Charlie plucked her platinum card from inside and held it up.

"That's why God invented AmEx, Dad," she replied with a grin.

Fifteen minutes later they were riding the hotel's small elevator. The customer service rep she'd spoken to at member services had managed to secure the last three rooms. Charlie's was on the second floor, while Bobby's and Dean and Sam's were on the third. According to the porter who had taken their bags, the hotel had been built in 1896. When asked if they'd ever had any ghost sightings he'd smiled as if the question was a common one and began regaling them tales of a murdered bride.

Charlie had prevented the boys from questioning the poor guy any further by jabbing the elevator button. Inside the lift, she glared at Dean, daring him to say another word. He just shrugged. Moments later, the elevator door opened and Charlie followed the porter to her room leaving her father and the two brothers to find their own.

Dustin, the porter, placed her bags inside the closet and gave her a quick tour of her suite before accepting the ten she slipped in his hand. As soon as the door shut behind him, she fell on her bed, not bothering to take off her boots or turn out the lights. She was beyond exhausted.

It seemed like she had just closed her eyes when the sound of someone pounding on her door and shouting her name jolted her awake. Sitting straight up, she yawned and stretched. When Dean bellowed her name a second time she sighed in exasperation. Damned man was going to wake the whole hotel.

Charlie opened the door just as he was about to start pounding on it again. "What?" she asked, annoyed. "Is the sky falling? Did aliens invade? No, wait. Don't tell me, Brad and Angelina adopted another baby. Is that it?" He stared at her, his brow furrowing in irritation, confusion or both. She sighed and leaned against the door. "What do you want, Dean?"

"Breakfast. You're driving," he announced, dangling her father's keys in front of her face.

"Why are we taking the GTO? Why not your car?" she asked, curious. Grabbing her jacket from a nearby chair, she slipped it on and tugged her hair from beneath the collar. She turned around to find Dean staring at her pointedly.

"What?" she asked.

"A suite?"

Looking around at the small but comfortably appointed room, Charlie saw nothing out of the ordinary. In fact, it was a lot less luxurious than she was accustomed to. On those rare occasions when she traveled with her mother, only the best would do. Or at least only the best would do for Lorraine Bedford-Hart and that usually meant five star accommodations.

"It's nothing to write home about. What's the big deal?" she asked Dean as she shouldered her bag.

"Why do you get a suite?" he asked petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Charlie smiled and pointed at herself with her thumb. "I foot the bill, I get the suite. So don't go getting your panties in a twist over it."

"What if I'm not wearing any?" Dean smirked with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

"TMI," she said before giving him a shove towards the door. "Come on. You got me out of bed so we might as well get to it."

"Careful, sweetheart. That almost sounded like an invitation."

A laugh bubbled up inside her chest and she wondered if he was high. Or maybe he was just possessed? Dean being nice? Something was definitely up. Charlie pulled the door shut behind them and whispered, "I'm trapped in the Twilight Zone."

As they walked down the burgundy carpeted stairs, she asked him again why they were taking her father's car.

"Sam took off again. Can't seem to remember she's my car," Dean replied in obvious annoyance.

This time, Charlie did laugh. "What's the matter, big boy? Jealous?"

"Not a chance," he said with a snort. "And stop calling me 'big boy'."

"As soon as you stop calling me 'little girl'," she countered as she reached the landing.

"Well, so long as we're clear who's on top," he teased back.

Yep, she was definitely in the Twilight Zone and it was one seriously scary episode. Watching Dean flirt with women and being on the receiving end of that charm weren't in the same league. Hell, they weren't even the same sport. That stupid, shit-eating grin of his was making it damned near impossible to stay mad at him.

"Why are you being so nice this morning?" Charlie asked as they crossed the hotel's lobby. "Not that I'm trying to pick a fight or anything. I'm just curious."

Dean reached out and opened the door for her before answering, "You can thank your dad and Sam."

"What do you mean? Holy shit, it's cold!"

"Seriously? It's forty degrees, not that cold," he said as though he was speaking to a child.

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Are you kidding? I'm from Houston, remember? And I'm not exactly dressed for the snow, Dean."

She was right, he noticed. That hoodie couldn't be very warm. "Okay, so we'll just have to get you a new coat." Seeing the light come into her eyes at the prospect of shopping, Dean groaned. Chicks. "Breakfast first though."

Grinning, Charlie swiped the car keys from his hand and started towards the parking lot. The beat up coupe was right where they'd left it, albeit under a hefty dusting of snow and ice. They worked together to clear the windows and windshield somehow resisting the temptation to pelt the other with a snowball or three.

A few blocks south of the historic district they found a little family run diner, the kind Dean preferred. When they were seated at a small Formica-topped table with hot coffee in hand, Charlie gave in to her curiosity.

"Spill it," she said without preamble. "What could my dad and your brother have possibly said to you to cause you to be this nice to me?"


	5. Chapter 5

Dean didn't answer Charlie's question right away. Instead, he took a sip of his coffee and looked at her. Her gaze was direct and unwavering. The curiosity reflected in her eyes was a welcome change from the ice-tinged hardness he'd grown accustomed to during the past few days. He wouldn't go so far as to call it warm but it was definately an improvement. The fact that he'd helped put that ice there in the first place didn't give him any pleasure. Nor had the ass reaming he'd received earlier this morning from his brother and her father.

"Don't ride her so hard," Sam had said when Charlie stepped off the elevator with the porter. "She's not like us, Dean."

"That's exactly my point, Sam. She's not cut out for this," Dean had argued back. "It's better this way."

Then with a snarl, Bobby'd interrupted asking, "And what way is that? You've been nothing but rude to that girl since she showed up. Regardless of how you feel, your father raised you better than that."

And just like that, Dean was instantly contrite. All it took was the tiniest implication that his father would be ashamed. He'd known he was being harsh with her, hadn't given her a fair shake. But in all honesty it was easier to be a dick to her and keep her at arm's length. He had no idea how to be friends with a girl, especially not a pretty one and the fact that Charlie was Bobby's daughter stuffed her squarely in the 'off limits' corner. If he wasn't trying to charm a woman out of her pants or information, Dean didn't have a clue how to talk to her. He was man enough to admit his short comings, well, to himself at least anyway.

But to Bobby and Sam he'd said, "Fine. I'll try to be nicer. Happy now?"

"Well?" Charlie asked impatiently. "Are you going to answer or just stare me to death?"

Dean chuckled. "You're not much of a morning person, are you?"

"Says the man who slept until check out two days ago," she replied as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. "Well?"

He could have kept teasing her but he opted to humor her instead. "They told me to play nice."

"And you're the kind of guy who just does what he's told, are you?"

Their waitress reappeared with their orders then, setting Charlie's and Dean's plates in front of them on the table. After she'd refilled their coffee and made certain they didn't need anything else, she left them to their breakfasts.

Dean took a large, greedy bite and all but moaned. Now this is what he was talking about. Hostess had nothing on homemade cherry pie.

"Do you need a moment alone?" Charlie asked, nearly choking on a snicker at the euphoric expression on his face.

"Wha?" he said mid-chew.

Laughing now, she replied, "You look like you're about to bust a nut over there, Dean."

It was his turn to choke at her unexpected, coarse language. Dean's eyes were tearing up from coughing as he asked, "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"There's a lot of things I do with this mouth that you, Dean Winchester, will never experience in this lifetime. I'm sure your imagination can fill in the blanks. But we weren't talking about me, were we? We were talking about you. So why don't quit beating around the bush and answer the question."

"What question was that?"

Charlie knew he knew which question she was talking about and his smug smile said he wasn't going to answer, not until he was good and ready. Then again, by not answering he was giving her an answer of sorts. Well, well, it looked like the mighty hunter had a sense of humor after all.

"Play dumb all you like. I already found out what I wanted to know."

Swallowing his food, Dean said, "Sweetheart, believe me when I say you know nothing about me."

"Whatever," she sighed and pushed her half-eaten omlet away. "You missed the whole point of what I was trying to say."

"Finish that," he said, pointing at her plate with his fork. "After we find you a coat we're gonna spend some time seeing just how well you can defend yourself."

An adamant shake of her head told Dean she was going to be stubborn. As if she'd been anything else so far. Why change now?

"Look, Charlie, our continued survival depends on being able to trust each other, on knowing we've got each other's backs. I gotta know where you're at physically so we can fill in the gaps."

"You misunderstood me, Dean," she replied. "I wasn't saying no to the training, just the timing. We're both running on about two hours' sleep. Can't we go back to the hotel and get a few more before we get to the hard stuff?"

This time, Dean shook his head. "No rest for the wicked, darlin'. You can catch up on your sleep after."

* * *

An hour and a half after they left the small diner, Charlie and Dean were circling each other in a small field adjacent to a small, white chapel. Consecrated ground, he'd said when she'd asked. They'd been sparring for the better part of a half hour and Charlie was already tired. As an instructor and opponent, Dean was relentless. He kept pushing and pushing.

Her clothes were damp from perspiration and snow and her muscles were aching. A hot shower was the only thing on Charlie's mind as she brought up her right arm to block Dean's punch. Dropping back into horse stance, she jabbed at him with her left fist before swinging her right leg up and around to land a solid round house to his ribs. When he staggered to his right, she followed through with a back spin kick and planted him on his ass in the snow.

"If you're done getting your ass kicked, can we go back to the hotel now?" she asked, bounding on the balls of her feet like a boxer. When he didn't answer or move, she leaned down over him to see if he was okay. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she gave it a shake and said, "Dean?"

His hand came out of nowhere, clamping down on her wrist and tugging, using her body's momentum to send her sprawling in the drift beside him. In the blink of an eye, he had her arms pinned above her head with one knee painfully planted into the muscle of her thigh to prevent her from attempting a reversal.

"Lesson number one: don't be over-confident," Dean stated. "This isn't a game we're playing. This is kill or be killed, got it?"

Dropping her head back into the wet snow, Charlie replied, "Yeah, I got it. Can you get off me now?"

His eyes darkened and for a moment, she was afraid he was going to something stupid - like kissing her. But Dean seemed to give himself a mental shake and a second later he was on his feet offering her a hand up. She clasped it and allowed herself to be pulled up. To clear her suddenly buzzing thoughts, Charlie busied herself with dusting the snow from her jeans and coat.

"Good job," Dean said finally, breaking the akward silence that had settled between them.

"Thanks," she murmured.

With a small, uncomfortable cough, he replied, "Yeah, well you're welcome. You ready to call it quits?"

She nodded a little more enthusiastically than necessary and rushed towards the car. All she wanted to do was get back to her room, take a hot shower, fall into bed and forget about that weird little moment they'd had a few minutes ago. Dean was thinking something similar as he slid into the passenger seat and pulled the car door closed.

They returned to the hotel and after agreeing to meet up at Bobby's room in a few hours they went their separate ways, each suddenly, painfully aware of the other.


	6. Chapter 6

"So, why drive out to the middle of bum fuck nowhere, Dad?" Charlie asked her father as he shifted the car into park and killed the engine. Looking out the window, all she could see was trees and snow. Sun filtered between the branches illuminating the small clearing where they'd stopped.

Bobby pushed the driver's side door open and giving her a look that clearly said her question was a stupid one, replied, "Target practice."

"Target practice," she repeated shaking her head. "Of course. Why didn't I think of that?" Rolling her eyes, Charlie climbed out of the car and repressed a shiver. It may have been a little over fifty degrees now but she was still freezing. She rubbed her upper arms and followed him to a nearby log and sat down.

They were alone in a forest some thirty miles outside of town on hunting property that belonged to one of her father's friends' friends. If she'd stop to think things over, she'd have realized this was coming next, especially after having spent her morning proving to Dean that she could handle herself in a physical fight. The last thing Charlie wanted to do was disappoint her dad. She might have been born and raised in Houston but unlike her a vast number of her fellow Texans, she'd never held a gun in her life, much less fired one.

Charlie watched in growing anxiety as Bobby pulled weapon after weapon from his trunk. Handguns and shotguns were plunked down next to her on the log. Her eyes rounded at the sight of a crossbow that was followed by a handful of some rather wicked looking knives. There was no way she was going to learn how to use all of those in a single afternoon and she told her father as much.

"I don't expect you to become an expert, girl. Just want you comfortable enough with 'em that you don't hesitate to pick one up if need be," he said as he picked up one of the pistols. "Come here."

With a sigh, Charlie got to her feet and approached her dad.

"This," he told her, turning the gun from side to side in his palm, "Is a semi-automatic double action nine millimeter Beretta. It has a fifteen-round magazine." Ejecting the clip, he showed it to her before sliding it back into place. "Hold the gun in your right hand and cup the base of the grip in your left. To chamber a round, pull back the slide. Pull back the hammer then gently squeeze the trigger to fire."

For the next twenty minutes, Bobby showed her each of the weapons he'd laid out, going over the basics of how to fire them all. It was a lot of information to process in a short period of time but Charlie had the gist of it down. Then it was time to actually shoot.

On the opposite end of the small clearing, Bobby set up three targets he'd fashioned out of a couple of cardboard whiskey boxes. He'd drawn a silhouette on each with a big black "X" in the center.

Handing Charlie the nine, he said, "I want you to squeeze off a few rounds, just to get a feel for the gun. Don't worry about hitting the target. It's gonna be loud, so be prepared for it."

She swallowed hard as she took the pistol from his hands and curled her fingers around the grip. It was heavier than she'd thought it would be. Bringing her left hand up to support its weight she aimed for the "X" on the center target and fired. Her dad had been right. It was very, very loud. The rapport echoed and caused her ears to ring. Her shot was wide, striking the target next to it. Charlie squeezed the trigger three more times, each time hitting anywhere but where she'd aimed.

"Damn it," she said with a disgusted sigh. "I couldn't hit water if I fell out of a boat."

Bobby gave a short bark of laughter and took the gun from her hands. "You're too tense," he stated. "Relax your shoulders. Line up the mark with the top of the front site then take your shot." Hit fired three times in rapid succession and each bullet slammed into the dead center. He handed it back. "Now you try it."

She palmed the gun again doing as he father instructed. She looked between the rear sights and lined the center of the "X" up just above the front. Biting her lip, Charlie fired again. This time she hit the target four inches above where she'd aimed.

"You're jerking the muzzle. Don't anticipate the recoil. Just let it happen."

Nodding in understanding, she squeezed the trigger. Her shot struck the target half an inch off the center. "I did it!" Charlie squealed in excitement.

"That you did," Bobby agreed. "Think you can do it again?"

Grinning, she aimed again.

For more than an hour, Charlie fired shot after shot, working her way through the various weapons her father had laid out for her. By the time he declared her competent enough, her shoulder was bruised and her arms felt like lead weights. She couldn't have cared less. Charlie couldn't remember when she'd last had so much fun. Being clapped on the shoulder and told that she was almost as good a shot as Dean (who had twenty plus years experience handling firearms) made her do a little happy dance before sliding into the passenger seat of her dad's car. Too bad she wasn't as good with the knives. Still, Bobby promised to keep working with her so there was hope.

"Don't go getting cocky over there, Charlene," he said as they began the drive back to Leadville. "You've still got a lot to learn."

She smiled and kissed his scruffy cheek. "I know, Dad. But thanks just the same. And thanks for making me part of the team."

"Don't know as I'd call us a team, family is more like. I've known those boys a long time and they've been through a helluva lot these past few years."

Winchester 101, Charlie learned, was a sobering subject. Bobby hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said that Dean and Sam had been through a lot. Snuggling deeper into her coat, listened as her father talked about the boys' father and how he'd raised them in motel after motel while chasing the demon who'd killed their mother. She didn't show it, but deep down her heart broke for them. In Charlie's world, excess and extravagance were the rule of the day. Her mom had come from old cattle money and had perfected the art of marrying well, a skill that only served to increase her wealth.

The concept of growing up the way the two brothers had was foreign to Charlie. Bobby's words painted a grim picture. Scraping up what money they could to survive, learning the necessary tricks to pick pockets and locks. They'd grown up hard. They'd grown up too soon. According to her father's account, John Winchester had left his sons alone quite a bit over the years. Being alone was something she could understand and relate to. Lorraine wasn't much for mothering. The fact that she hadn't had an abortion the second she'd discovered she was pregnant had been a miracle all its own. Instead, she'd pawned Charlie off on a nanny almost the instant she'd come screaming into the world.

Raised by the household staff, she hadn't been short on affection but she'd never really felt her mother's love. Charlie had come to terms with her mother's limitations long ago but that didn't lessen her bitterness. It was that same resentment that had fueled her rebellion. By the time she was in junior high, the pretty, conservative dresses that filled her closets when Charlie was a little girl were thrown out in favor of jeans and tee shirts, the dainty high-heeled sandals replaced with Chuck Taylor's and Doc Marten's. Ballet classes were traded in for soccer lessons and the piano abandoned for the guitar.

While other girls her age had been obsessed with boys and horses, Charlie had preferred the horses that ran beneath the hood of their chauffeur's Fastback. Mickey taught her how to turn a wrench as well as any gear head. When she was fifteen, he taught her drive and was the one who'd taken her to the DMV to get her license. For her sixteenth birthday, the staff had gotten together and bought her a 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle. The car was a long way from aesthetically pleasing. It didn't even run but to Charlie it had been the best gift she'd ever received. It was something of her own, something for her to take pride in as she fixed it up.

Lorraine had had a fit when she'd seen it in the garage.

"Christ, you're just like your father," she'd complained.

Charlie had planted her hands on her hips and challenged, "And exactly who is my father, Mom?"

A yellowed scrap of paper was plucked from her mother's jewelry box and tossed her way. On it was a name and address. It had taken Charlie more than a month to get up the courage to write to him. She couldn't find the right words to say it. In the end, she'd decided to shoot straight from the hip. She'd told him her name and her age then got right down to the heart of the matter, informing him that he was her father and that she'd like to meet him - if he was agreeable.

Two weeks later, Bobby Singer had shown up on her doorstep. That had been almost six years ago now. There was a lot Charlie still didn't know about her father, this current caper being a prime example, but she loved him with all her heart. He wasn't much, but he was all she really had, her emotionally closed off mother not withstanding.

Learning that Dean and Sam only had each other and Bobby, made her a little sad. That little bud of jealousy that had blossomed in her chest at the bond the three men shared withered away.

"Now don't you go showing them any pity, girl. They'll eat you alive for it," her father said, interrupting her thoughts.

"Wouldn't dream of it," she replied. "I'm glad you told me though."

No, she didn't pity them. She envied them.


	7. Chapter 7

Dinner that evening was an interesting affair. Take-out boxes from a neighborhood grill littered the small corner table in Bobby's room amid stacks of books on angels, demons and a myriad of other things that went bump in the night. Dean and Sam had spent the afternoon in the local library doing research trying to figure out what it was that had drawn Lilith to this snowy little hamlet. Notes and photocopies were strewn across the bed and floor as their contents were dissected and discussed. Charlie listened and learned as best as she was able but she couldn't help but feel like the outsider that she was.

She took a bite of her cheeseburger then chased it with a swig of Bud Light before glancing up at where Dean lay stretched out across the bed. Visions of a little boy trying to keep up with his father's demands and struggling to care for his younger brother flashed behind her eyes and she had to look away. Tears suddenly burned her eyes as a wave of empathy washed over her. As discretely as she could manage, Charlie dashed them away then took a long, deliberate swig of her beer.

"Easy there, sweet cheeks," Dean teased as she drained the bottle. "What's next, keg stands at the frat house?"

Charlie sat the empty bottle on the table and smiled. "Twenty bucks and twenty-four hours behind the wheel of your baby says I'd outlast you, Winchester."

"Oh yeah, little girl? Bring it on," he taunted. "I don't think you've got the balls to take me."

Even though she knew he was only teasing her, Charlie's eyes narrowed in irritation. She really hated it when he called her 'little girl'. Annoyance replaced the sadness she'd been feeling and she was grateful for it. Not that she would ever tell Dean that.

"Anytime, anyplace, big boy," she countered, tossing the wadded up foil from her burger at his head.

Despite their earlier truce and surprisingly pleasant conversation, he still managed to rub her the wrong way. A half-formed image in the back of her mind of how he could rub her the right way was quickly stomped on. Then she gave it an imaginary salting and burning for good measure. Just because she found him reasonably attractive, okay, incredibly attractive, that didn't mean she was going to start letting fantasies with him in the lead role run amok.

"If you two kids are finished with your little 'mine's bigger' competition, can we get back to saving the world?" Bobby asked, looking from one to the other. If he didn't miss his guess something was going on between his daughter and his friend, something he didn't want to see happen. _Looks like I'm gonna have to have that conversation with Dean after all_, he mused.

"Sure thing, Bobby," Dean said before lobbing the burger wrapper back at Charlie.

She caught it easily and tossed it into the wastebasket. "Sorry, Dad."

"Yeah, well. Let's just try to stay focused," the older hunter urged. "Charlene, do you have that book I gave you to read yesterday?"

"Was it 'Unlocking the End Time Prophecies?'" Bobby nodded. "It's in my room. Want me to go get it?"

"Would ya?"

Smiling, she said, "Sure, Dad. Be right back."

The moment the door shut behind her, Bobby set his notepad aside and leveled his gaze on Dean.

Feeling the older man's eyes on him, Dean looked up from what he was reading and asked, "What?"

"Dean, you and Sam, you're family. I love you both like you were my own, but I'm only going to say this once so pay attention. Whatever's going on with you and Charlie stops now. I don't want you or your dick anywhere near my daughter. You got that? Touch her and I'll cut your nuts off and feed 'em to ya."

Dean winced and covered his crotch with one hand. "Jesus Christ, Bobby. Nothing's going on. I swear. Hell, weren't you just telling me this morning to be nicer to her?"

"Yeah, but not _that _nice."

"I promise. I haven't laid a hand on Charlie. All right, so I punched her a couple of times when we were sparring earlier. But I haven't _touched _her. You should have seen her though. Put me on my ass more than once. Damn, that girl of yours sure can fight."

The obvious pride in Dean's voice didn't exactly allay Bobby's fears. In fact, it only served to increase them. "It's good to know she can kick your ass if need be. But I'm gonna take you at your word when you say you don't have designs on her. Let's keep it that way."

Dean shrugged. "Sure thing, Bobby."

* * *

Charlie jogged back upstairs with the thick, leather-bound book tucked under her arm. When she reached the landing, Sam was stepping off the elevator and like always his cell phone was glued to his ear. The moment he saw her, he mumbled something and ended the call.

Smiling knowingly, Charlie jabbed him in his shoulder and said, "So, who is she?" Sam stiffened almost imperceptibly but she noticed it nonetheless. _Bingo_, she thought. _Caught ya_. "Come on, spill. Who is she?"

He shook his head. "It's nothing. Just doing some checking around."

"Yeah, right. And I'm the virgin Mary. Try again," she drawled, shifting the book to her right hand before crossing her arms over her chest. She took a step to the left and blocked his path. "No one sneaks off as much as you do to use the phone unless they're talking to a girl, Sam Winchester. Unless it's a boy who's grabbed your attention?"

"No!" he cried. Realizing he was well and truly busted, Sam took Charlie's arm and led her to the other end of the hall, away from Bobby's door. "Okay, you're right. There is someone, a _girl_, but I'm not ready for Dean and your dad to know just yet. They won't understand."

Confused, she cocked an eyebrow. "If you love her, why hide it?"

"I didn't say I'm in love with her," he denied emphatically. "I don't even know if I can trust her. I just know that right now I need her. Can you understand that?"

The desperate look on Sam's face told Charlie he cared about his mystery girl more than even he realized. He was also terrified of being discovered. Placing a hand on his arm, she said, "Okay, Sam. I won't say anything. I promise."

Relief washed over him. The last thing he wanted was for Dean to find out about his relationship (if it could even be called that) with Ruby from anyone but him and definitely not before he was ready to share. His brother was going to go off like an atom bomb, of that much he was certain.

"Thanks, Charlie," Sam replied then gave into impulse and pulled her into a tight hug. He rested his chin on top of her head when she brought her arms up to circle his waist and hugged him back. "You know, this is pretty cool. I always wanted a little sister."

She giggled and pressed her cheek against his chest. After a lifetime virtually devoid of physical affection, it felt nice to be held like this. "Don't tell anyone, but I always wanted a big brother."

"Why not a big sister instead?" he asked, toying absently with the ends of her hair.

"All the girls I knew turned their noses up at the things that interested me so I figured a brother would be better."

Pulling back, Sam tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, now you've got two."

"What was that about being careful what you wish for?" she grinned.

From the door of Bobby's room, Dean watched his brother embrace Charlie. Something that felt suspiciously like jealousy caused his stomach to clench. Stepping back inside the room, he shut the door with a loud click.

"Something wrong?" Bobby asked from where he was sitting on the floor.

Dean shook his head. "Nah. So, you find anything yet?"

"Got a lead on a ghost town a few miles down the mountain. It's pretty limp but it's all we got to go on at this point."

"A ghost town?" Dean said. "Anything else? No signs of any demonic activity?"

Bobby harrumphed. "You tell me, genius. You're the one who spent the afternoon tracking down all this." He waved a hand in the direction of the cluttered stacks of papers, manuscripts and books.

"Okay. Ghost town it is. So, when are we going?"

"_We're_ not going anywhere. Sam and me will head out there tonight. I want you to stay here with Charlie and work on her knife throwing. She did good with pistols, shotguns and even the crossbow. But she can't throw a knife worth a damn. Doesn't even know how to fight with one."

"Weren't you just warning me to keep my hands off?"

"That hasn't changed. I just want you to teach her some. Think you can handle that?"

In all honesty, he'd rather be out on the hunt. He didn't like the idea of Sammy being out of his sight, especially when there were demons on the loose. Something was off with that kid. He just couldn't put his finger on it. All those late night phone calls he had to leave the room for. The constant disappearing with the Impala. He was hiding something. Dean was sure of it.

Finally, Dean shrugged. "Whatever you say, Bobby."


	8. Chapter 8

You're still doing it wrong," Dean complained for the fifth time in as many minutes. "Stop breaking your wrist."

It took every ounce of Charlie's restraint not to swing around and hurl the six inch blade she held in her hand at his heart. She'd been throwing knives at the trunk of a pine tree for an hour. The temperature had dropped after sunset and the snow was steadily coming down. Her fingers were frozen through. How could he expect her to hit what she was aiming at under these conditions. Fucking prick.

She watched as he pried the knife from the tree and walked back to where she stood. Tossing it up in the air, Dean caught it by the blade and hurled it at the target with deadly accuracy.

Charlie crossed her arms sullenly over her chest and grumbled, "Showoff."

"Your turn," he said, gesturing towards the tree.

Wind whipped around them, lifting her hair and causing her to shiver. Wanting this torture to end, Charlie ground her teeth and imitated his actions flinging the knife towards the tree as hard as she could. It struck the bark and bounced off.

"I'm never going to be able to do this," she whined.

Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation. He dug his knife out of the tree and picked hers up from where it lay in the snow before walking back to where she stood with arms crossed over her chest in a childish display of temper.

Taking her hand, he pressed her fingers against the down-turned blade and stepped behind her. His front was pressed against her back, his left hand gripping her hip. With his head hovering over her shoulder, he tugged up on the knife, forcing her arm to follow. They repeated the tandem motion of raising and lowering the blade for a few seconds. Then with a whispered, "now" he released his grip on her fingers and she let the knife fly in a perfect arc. It hit the tree trunk with a solid thunk, embedding itself next to where Dean's had struck.

"I did it," Charlie whispered in amazement. She turned her head to look at him but froze when their lips brushed accidentally. Everything seemed to stop in that moment including her heart as she stared at him with wide eyes.

Dean's grip on her hip tightened for a moment. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. The pseudo kiss had been brief and unintentional but her taste was there just the same. Rational thought fled his mind when she unconsciously leaned her head back, silently asking for more. With no thought to the consequences of his actions, Dean leaned down and took her mouth properly, groaning at the heat and tangy flavor of her lips. It had been a long, long time since he'd kissed a woman. Four months in hell and he'd forgotten just how good living could be.

Charlie reached up with her right arm and curled her hand around the back of his neck, drawing him closer as the kiss deepened. Her mouth opened to his questing tongue, her knees going weak under the intensity of the feelings that were sparking to life inside her. It was heaven and hell all wrapped up seductively into one mind-numbing exploration of lips, tongue and teeth.

She gasped and tore her mouth away when Dean suddenly drug her back against him and she felt him pressing intently against her ass. He seized the opportunity and lowered his head to nibble on the exposed skin of her neck. Charlie moaned long and low and he was harshly ripped out of the passionate stupor.

"What the fuck am I doing?" he whispered in horror. Dean let go of her and stumbled back a few feet, putting a safe distance between them.

Anything he might have said next was drowned out by a new voice screaming at them to run. Both Charlie and Dean's heads whipped around towards the sound. A short, dark-haired girl was heading straight for them.

"Run!" she yelled again. "Now!"

The hair on the back of Dean's neck stood up. He didn't hesitate, just sheathed his knives, grabbed Charlie's hand and took off after the girl. There was something vaguely familiar about her but he'd worry about that later. A deep, bone chilling roar erupted from the woods seconds before a mountain lion burst out of the tree line.

"Fuck me," Dean breathed as he picked up his pace.

Ice cold terror had gripped Charlie's heart and she ran for all she was worth. If they lived through this she was going to kill Dean for insisting on hiking up the hill behind their hotel instead of driving up there.

"Move your ass, short bus!" the girl shouted.

Charlie turned just in time to see a look of pure rage cross Dean's features. It had been awhile since he'd been called that but there was only one person, or rather demon, on the planet who'd ever called him 'short bus'.

"No fucking way!" he bellowed as he ran.

They were halfway down the hill when the animal made a sharp left before heading back the way it had come. Charlie didn't stop to question its motivation, she kept running for the lights of the hotel. Dean it seemed had other ideas. He was now in pursuit of the girl who'd warned them about the lion. And he was heading right for the lake.

"Dean!" Charlie shouted. "Get off the ice!"

The girl disappeared just as he came to a skidding halt on the slick surface of the lake, a good six feet from the shore. The loud, popping sound of the ice breaking registered mere seconds before he was falling through, plunging into the freezing water below.

Rushing to the lake's edge, Charlie dropped down onto her belly and scooted out a couple of feet with her arms outstretched. "Grab my hands!" she screamed. "Dean! Grab my hands!"

The water was only a little over waist deep where he'd gone in but he went under completely when he'd fallen and was now shivering, fighting against the sub-freezing temperature of the water. His hands were shaking as he reached for Charlie's fingers. It took several tries, but eventually they managed to him out of the water and onto the shore.

* * *

Charlie struggled under Dean's weight, stumbling towards the door to her room with his arm thrown over her shoulders and one of her own wrapped tightly around his waist. Cold seeped through her clothes as the dampness from his spread from were their bodies touched. Stupid man. What the hell was he thinking running out onto the ice like that? Even she knew better than that and she was from Texas for God's sake.

"Almost there," Charlie said as she stepped up onto the stairway landing. "Ten more feet."

His teeth were chattering loudly and shivers were wracking his body making it that much more difficult for her. Grasping Dean's wrist, Charlie tugged his arm more securely over her shoulder before dipping her hand into her back pocket for her key. Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that taking him to his own room would have been better, he had dry clothes in there after all. But Charlie wasn't thinking that far into the future. Her room was closest and her main concern was getting him out of his soaking wet ones and getting him warmed up.

"C-c-c…cold," he stuttered. "So cold."

"I know. We'll get you warmed back up. I promise," she assured him as she jabbed the key in the lock.

She stumbled when the door opened and Dean followed, knocking her off her feet in the process. They both went down. Charlie's palms hit the hardwood floor half a second before the crushing weight of Dean's body hit her back. With a startled 'oomph' she ended up on her belly with her face pressed into the oriental rug.

"Get off me, you ass," she ground out and elbowed him in his ribs.

Groaning, Dean rolled off her and onto his back. He was deathly pale, his skin taking on a bluish tint. Great, Charlie thought. Just great. So much for just getting him dry.

"Come on, big boy," she said as she hooked her arms beneath his and tugged him into a sitting position. "Let's get you outta these clothes."

A cheeky, lopsided grin found its way to Dean's lips as he slurred, "Knew you wanted me."

Charlie rolled her eyes and kicked the door shut. "Oh yeah. I want you bad, Dean Winchester. Oh baby, oh baby. Take me now," she mocked and rolled her eyes. "Get over yourself. Knocking on hypothermia's door and you're hitting on me."

She bent down and tried pulling him to his feet only to wind up in his lap instead when he grabbed her wrist and dragged her down. He nuzzled her neck, sending unwanted shivers racing down Charlie's spine. Angrily, she pushed herself away and got to her feet. Enough was enough.

"Remind me to kick your ass later," she snapped. "Now get up, Dean. Get up!"

"Spoilsport," he muttered but did as she asked. Once on his feet, he swayed just a bit. "Whoa, need to sit."

Somehow, he managed to get to the bed without falling but Charlie was grateful just the same. It would be easier to get him undressed that way. She quickly divested him of his boots, socks and jacket, pausing to rub some warmth into his feet and ankles. By the time she stood and reached for his sodden tee shirt his shivering had resumed.

"Fuck," she said as she peeled the garment over his head and tossed it over her shoulder. A gentle nudge to his bare chest and he was on his back. Crawling up the bed, Charlie quickly unfastened his belt and jeans. "You so owe me for this," she declared as she tugged his pants over his hips, unsurprised to discover that Dean Winchester had gone commando. The wet denim landed atop his discarded shirt near the door.

It took a few tries but eventually, Charlie was able to pull the bedspread and sheet from beneath his heavy body and pulled it over him. The longer he lay there shivering the more alarmed she became. "Damn it," she swore as she shrugged out of her own jacket. "You owe me big time for this." In less than a minute, she was as naked as he and slipped beneath the covers, wrapping her arms and legs around him. Christ, but his skin was cold.

At first he just lay there, continuing to shake. But then she felt one of his arms curl around her back and she sighed in relief. Gradually, his skin lost its chill. Charlie hazarded a guess that he was going to feel like shit the next day but she'd be damned if de didn't deserve it. Anyone with half the sense God gave them knew not to run out into the middle of a frozen lake. What a fucking idiot. He should have known bet…

Charlie's train of thought was interrupted by a deep yawn. Fatigue was beginning to take over and she felt her eyes drooping. She raised her head from where it rested on Dean's chest to glance up at his face. He was sound asleep, snoring lightly. With a sigh, Charlie pushed herself up and tossed back the covers. If she was going to grab some shut eye, she needed to refresh the salt lines beneath the windows and at the door, especially the ones at the door. Dean had dripped water all over them.

When she'd finished, she hesitated, considering whether she should put on some clothes. Dean chose that moment to shudder and her decision was made. She climbed back into bed next to him and lay her head back down on his chest. Minutes later she was asleep.

* * *

Disoriented, Dean woke, surprised to find himself plastered against a warm, female body. Not one to deny himself such comforts, he buried his face in the woman's hair and tightened his grip on her waist. His dick was hard as rock, nestled in the cleft of her ass. Slowly and deliberately, he pressed his hips forward, giving them a suggestive wiggle.

Her sleepily mumbled, "Cut it out, Dean," rudely pulled him out of the carnal haze he'd woken to and into the here and now.

"Charlie?!" he squeaked, shoving himself away from her. "What the fuck?"

"How soon they forget," she groused as she tugged the bedspread up over her shoulder.

Please God, Dean prayed silently. Please tell me I didn't get smashed and fuck Bobby's little girl. He ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning. Why the fuck couldn't he remember? Then, it hit him. The argument with Bobby about being 'stuck' with Charlie, bumping into that chick Sammy had banged back in Illinois (who just happened to use one of Ruby's nicknames for him - coincidence? Dean didn't think so), the lake…Ah, shit. The lake. What the fuck had he been thinking?

Dean flopped down onto his back and sighed, heavily. "So I'm guessing I have you to thank for saving my ass?"

With a snort, Charlie said, "Yeah, you do. Go back to sleep, Dean."

Go back to sleep? He didn't think so. He was still painfully hard despite realizing Charlie was the woman he'd been grinding against. With a frustrated groan, he all but threw back the bedspread and stomped towards the bathroom.

"Jesus Christ, Dean," Charlie snapped, rolling over. "What the hell is your prob…oh. Never mind."

Her cheeks flushed crimson when eyes locked on his lower anatomy. The color spread down her neck to her chest and Dean only got that much harder. She lay there, naked as the day she was born, with sleep-mussed hair and parted lips staring at his cock.

"Go back to sleep, Charlie," he said huskily before stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door. Dean pressed his forehead against the cool surface and took a deep breath. He reasoned that there were worse things he could have woken up to besides this. But he'd be damned if he could think of any. She was sarcastic and contrary, stubborn and opinionated. A real pain in the ass and that was on a good day. She was quick on her feet, even quicker with a come back. She was smart and sexy and had the lips and body of a porn star. She was Bobby's little girl and he'd been dumb enough to kiss her last night.

Just thinking about his friend and fellow hunter proved more effective than a cold shower, rapidly deflating his cock. Dean scrubbed a hand over his face. He didn't doubt for a second that Bobby would follow through on his threat to castrate him should he ever lay a hand on Charlie _that _way. Mentally vowing to get himself laid as soon as possible, he pulled the door open and walked back to the bed. Charlie was thankfully facing the other direction. If she'd stared at him like that again…damn it. He was hard again. Son of a bitch!

Disgusted with his body's reaction to the memory of her eyes on his body, Dean slid between the sheets and lay on his back with an arm tossed over his head. Though there was a good foot and a half between them, he could feel the heat from her body, could still smell her hair and the fruity shampoo she used. There was no way he was going to be able to go back to sleep. Glancing at the clock, he decided there was little point to it now. It was almost six.

He looked at Charlie's sleeping form and regretted it instantly. She lay on her side facing the wall. The covers had slipped down when she turned over and were resting low on her hip leaving her back exposed. One leg poked out from between the tangled sheets revealing creamy skin he was suddenly itching to nibble on.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dean sighed in frustration. His dick was trying to poke a hole through the sheets. To make matters worse, his head was starting to throb. No doubt caused by his tumble into the lake last night. Beside him, Charlie mumbled and shifted in her sleep causing the bedspread to shift again, this time baring the upper swell of her ass.

Dean reached out and tugged it back up to her hip, resting his hand on the bone for a moment to give her a gentle squeeze.

"Charlie," he whispered, knowing by the change in her breathing that she'd woken up. "I should probably go. Bobby'll kill me if he finds me in here."

"You're damned right I'm gonna kill ya," a gruff, angry voice said from above him half a heartbeat before he was snatched out of the bed.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean's back hit the wall hard, knocking the breath from him. The fingers that were gripping his throat and squeezing for all they were worth certainly weren't helping. Murder was reflected in Bobby's eyes. The anger Dean could see reflected there wasn't nearly as damning as the disappointment and betrayal that accompanied it.

He clutched the older man's wrist, trying to pry his iron-like grip loose. "It's not what it looks like," Dean managed to croak out. "I haven't touched her. Bobby, please." Spots were dancing in his vision as he gasped for air.

Stunned by her father's sudden appearance, Charlie had all but fallen out of bed but now stood, wrapped in the bed sheet staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. Dean's feet were barely touching the ground where Bobby held him against the wall and his face was beginning to turn purple.

"Dad!" she shouted, yanking on her father's arm. "Let him go. He's telling you the truth. This isn't what it looks like."

Bobby turned and looked at her with sharp, rage-filled eyes and said, "Really? 'Cause from where I'm standing, it looks like you two spent the night together. The fact that you're both naked doesn't leave a whole lot of room for the imagination, Charlene."

"Okay so maybe it's sort of what it looks like, But nothing happened," she replied, stressing the word nothing. "He fell through the ice last night, Dad. He could have died. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Let him?"

Loosening his grip, Bobby allowed the younger man to slide down the wall. Dean coughed and rubbed at his throat. "You made me a promise, boy. What the hell was I supposed to think when Sam came pounding on my door this morning telling me he couldn't find your sorry ass?"

Charlie turned furious eyes on her father. Planting one hand on her hip while the other held the sheet to her chest, she demanded, "So that just gave you the right to break into my room and assault him? Where the fuck do you get off, _Dad_? I'm a grown woman and what I do and who I do it with is none of your business."

She dropped down to her knees beside Dean then. She laid a hand on his shoulder intending to ask him if he was okay only to snatch it back at the heat she felt there. It was then that she noticed that he was shivering again. Placing the back of her hand against his forehead, her suspicions were confirmed. He was burning up with a fever, a little souvenir from his dip in the lake last night she was guessing.

"Shit," she cursed on a sigh. Looking up at her father, she said, "He's running a fever, Dad. Help me get him back into the bed."

For the next few minutes, neither father nor daughter spoke. They worked in silence to make Dean comfortable, covering him with blankets and forcing Tylenol down his throat. He was asleep in minutes. Satisfied that he wasn't going to wake up any time soon, Charlie threw a glare at her father before storming into the bathroom and slamming the door behind her.

A few minutes later, she emerged freshly showered and dressed in a long sleeved, fitted black Henley and a pair of snug low-rise jeans. She tugged her hair up in a high pony tail and shoved her sock-clad feet into her boots before telling her dad she'd like a cup of coffee.

"We'll talk about all this in your room. Dean needs to get some rest and the last thing I want to do is wake him up with our shouting," Charlie said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Bobby nodded and left the room without a word. His mind was spinning and his stomach was churning with regret. He'd been blinded by rage and could easily have hurt Dean had Charlie not intervened. He and Sam had returned from the old mining camp a couple hours earlier. Bobby was just stepping out of the shower when the younger man had knocked on his door asking if he'd seen Dean.

Dread had settled over Bobby when he'd thought of where he might find the other man. He hadn't bothered to knock. Instead he'd slipped his pick into the door and deftly released the lock. He'd seen red the moment his eyes focused on the two bodies lying on the bed in the dimly lit room. Then he'd heard Dean's words and he'd reacted. The thought that it could be completely innocent had never crossed his mind. He knew Dean Winchester too well. The boy was a womanizer through and through. Leopards didn't miraculously change their spots and Bobby'd be damned if his little girl was going to get hurt by that boy. She'd had too little good in her life.

By the time the tentative knock on his door came a few minutes later, he had his anger under control. He opened it expecting to see his daugher but instead came face to face with a young woman he didn't recognize. She was petite with dark hair and eyes and from the looks of it was scared out of her wits. Bobby'd been a hunter for too many years to let a pair of wide, frightened eyes lull him into a false sense of security. He reached for the silver knife on the wash stand and tucked it up along his forearm.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked gruffly.

"I'm sorry, I think I have the wrong room." The girl shifted her weight nervously from one foot to the other. She glanced down at the salt line in the threshold of the door and backed up a step. The significance of the action wasn't lost on Bobby. He lunged at her but missed when a large form appeared out of nowhere knocking the girl to the ground.

"Get out the way, Sam," Bobby ordered brandishing the 'big time magic knife'. "She's a demon."

Sam climbed to his feet, pushing the girl behind him protectively. "I know," he said tiredly.

The arm holding the knife wavered for a moment. "What the hell do you mean you know? Now get outta the way so I can stick her."

"I can't let you do that, Bobby," he said. Reaching out with his right hand, Sam focused on the knife until it leapt across the small distance between himself and the older hunter to land in his palm. "She's not a threat. She's here to help us, Bobby."

Bobby's brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. "Thought you told your brother you weren't messing around with that psychic ESP business?"

"Yeah, well, I lied," Sam confessed. "Ruby's been helping me get control of my powers. I've been able to take down more demons in the past four months than we did in the past two years."

"Ruby? I thought she was dead."

"Not dead, as you can see. Just got myself a new body," the demon said from her hiding place behind Sam.

Snorting, Bobby sneered, "Possessed yourself a new body you mean. I don't like this, Sam. I take it Dean doesn't know she's back?"

"No," Sam answered at the same moment Ruby said, "Yes."

His head shot around to look at her over his shoulder. "Please tell me you're joking, Ruby." When she looked down and shook her head, Sam groaned. "He's going to kill me."

"I told you to tell him sooner but would you listen to me? No. The great, all knowing Sam Winchester just had to do things his way. Besides, what does a demon know. I've only been walking this earth for oh, I don't know, a few thousand years."

Bobby watched in growing but reluctant amusement as the two continued to argue. Then something registered in the back of his brain. He'd seen this girl only days before, in Sam's hotel room.

"It was you," he said. "That night, it was you. The girl that answered Sam's door."

"Are you going to kill me if I say yes?" Ruby asked.

"Not right this second. But you two have got some serious explaining to do."

Running a hand through his hair, Sam said, "Yeah, I guess we do. Did you ever find Dean?"

Bobby grimaced. "He's in Charlie's room. Asleep with a bit of a fever. Seems he fell through some ice last night. I suggest you come clean with him as soon as he wakes up. I'm telling you right now I don't like this. Demons ain't trust worthy no matter how prettily they package themselves."

"Gee, thanks," Ruby quipped before walking away, telling Sam she'd wait for him downstairs.

"I'll tell him this afternoon, Bobby," Sam promised. Then shoving his hands in his pockets, he said, "I don't expect you to understand and believe me when I say I didn't want you to find out like this. But she's been helping me and with what she knows about other demons, I think she might be able to help us find Lilith or at least what she's after."

Sighing, Bobby replied, "You're right, I don't understand. I'm not even sure I wanna. But if you don't tell your brother, I will."

Standing just around the corner from her father's room, Charlie had heard the entire exchange. Sam's mystery girl was a demon and not just any demon but the infamous Ruby. Wow. That certainly wasn't something she'd seen coming. The sound of his heavy footfalls coming to a stop on the other side of the corner let her know he knew she was there.

"So, I'm guessing you heard?" he asked quietly.

Reaching around the wall, she took his hand and gave it a light squeeze. "I heard enough. Dad's right. You need to tell him. Your best chance for surviving the confrontation would be to do it now, while he's weak. No matter how badly he's gonna want to thrash you, he won't have the strength to do it."

Sam laughed. "You really don't like him, do you?"

Charlie blushed at the memory of Dean's kiss the night before and sighed. She liked him a little too much and that was the problem. She opened her mouth to assure Sam that all was well between his brother and her but snapped it back shut when her cell phone rang.

Sam squeezed her hand back and told her he'd see her later. A second later, he was heading down the hotel stairs presumably to meet up with Ruby. Please God, she prayed. Please don't let anything happen to my family.

Without looking at the caller ID, Charlie flipped open her phone and said, "Hello?"

"You're a hard woman to track down," the smooth voice on the other end replied.

"Aaron," she whispered.


	10. Chapter 10

It was by pure random chance that she saw him in the crowd. At least, that's what Charlie was telling herself as she ducked around a corner. Pulling her baseball cap lower over her eyes, she hunched her shoulders and shuffled into the mass of waiting passengers. Any minute now, the sun would come creeping over the horizon painting the downtown skyline in pinks and gold. It had been five hours since she'd crept out of the hotel back in Leadville. Five hours since she'd left her father and her friends behind sleeping in their beds unaware of her defection.

Aaron's phone call had forced her hand. The last thing Charlie wanted to do was leave but now she had no other choice. The little prick had done his homework. He knew who she was traveling with and he somehow knew Dean and Sam had warrants out for their arrest in several states. She didn't doubt for a second that Aaron would make good on his threat to alert the authorities to their whereabouts. As long as she stayed with them, she would be a danger to them. Lilith had to be stopped no matter the cost. Charlie couldn't let her problems get in their way. Their work was too important. The fate of the world was at stake.

She risked a glance over her shoulder and choked back a sob of frustration. He was closing in on her and the expression on his face was murderous, promising retribution when he got his hands on her. Five hours and a hundred snow covered miles and still he'd found her. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised. Dean was a hunter after all.

Unsure of what she would do if he tried to make her go back, Charlie fought the rising panic and made a run for it. She took off as fast as she could, shoving people out of her way, leaping over benches and dodging baggage carts. But despite all those years of playing soccer in high school and college, she wasn't able to out run or out maneuver him.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" Dean shouted as he grabbed Charlie's arm and spun her around to face him. "Cutting out in the middle of the night like that. You know what's out there. Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Tears burned her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. Charlie shook her head miserably, "It's better this way, Dean. Better for everyone. Just let me go, forget you saw me. Go back and tell my dad you couldn't find me. Please, just let me go - for everyone's sake. Please!"

The naked fear in her eyes and the desperate way she was pleading with him that told Dean there was a lot she wasn't saying. Her eyes kept darting around the bus station as though she expected something or someone to jump out at any moment. Beneath his hands, he could feel her trembling.

"What's going on, Charlie? What are you afraid of?" he asked, his thumbs rubbing unconscious circles on her biceps.

"I can't," she whispered hoarsely. "Just forget about me, Dean." Wrenching herself free of his grasp, Charlie adjusted the strap of her bag and tossed it on her shoulder. "You should all just forget about me."

Dean grabbed her again, this time giving her a firm shake. "Are you even listening to yourself? Maybe I didn't give you a fair shake in the beginning, but you're one of us now, you're family. Family don't just drop each other cold and run off to God knows where in the middle of the fucking night."

Straightening her spine, Charlie looked up into his face and told him, "You're all better off without me, Dean. I'm a sinking ship and I'm not going to stand around and watch you all go down with me."

Dean didn't get the chance to ask her what her cryptic statement meant. Two uniformed police officers who'd been alerted by the commotion Charlie's mad dash had caused appeared with hands resting on their side arms.

"Sir," the taller of the cops said, "Please remove your hands from the lady and take two steps back."

"Great. Just fucking great," Dean groaned, doing as he was instructed.

"Watch your mouth," the shorter warned. Taking in Charlie's tear-stained face, he asked, "Are you all right, ma'am?"

Silently, Charlie cursed herself for her inattention. She'd been so wrapped up in trying to dissuade Dean that she hadn't been paying attention to the scene they'd caused. The last thing they needed was to have the police run either of their ID's. She needed to throw them off kilter and she needed to do it fast. An idea popped inter her mind, she just prayed Dean would catch on before giving up the game.

With a coy smile, she pulled off her cap and ruffled her hair with one hand. She bit down on her lip and looked up at the police officers from beneath her lashes. Then, throwing as much unabashed want and lust into her eyes as she could, Charlie looked Dean over, pausing meaningfully as she raked past his groin.

Without looking away, she said to the cops, "I was doing wonderfully until you showed up, officers. But now you've ruined our little game." She glanced back at them then and had to stifle a giggle as the implication of what she was saying registered. "My husband and I didn't mean any harm."

Dean, God bless him, was a quick study. Curling an arm around her waist he pulled her to him and latched onto her mouth with the fervor of a dying man, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and sucking away at her senses. One of his hands burrowed into her hair, knocking her ball cap to the floor while the other reached down and cupped her ass. Charlie ground against the thigh that wedged itself between her own, moaning into his mouth when he gave her butt a solid smack.

He raised his head and looked up at the red faced police officers. "What can I say? The little woman likes being chased. You shoulda seen what she put me through before she said 'I do'."

"Yes, well," the taller cop coughed. "Try to keep it in your bedroom. Have a nice day."

When they were far enough away, Charlie untangled herself from Dean's grasp and swiped up her hat from the ground. After dusting it off on her thigh, she crammed it back on her head. She tucked her hair behind her ears and shrugged her bag back up onto her shoulder.

"Look, Dean," she began. "I don't expect you to understand but I can't stay. You're all safer without me around."

Crossing his arms over his chest, Dean looked down at her with his lips pursed. "Is that so? And the fact that you were just all over me like a bitch in heat…" The crack of her palm against his cheek echoed despite the din of the bus station. "Ouch," he said, rubbing his jaw. "Okay, so I deserved that. But you're a French fry short of a Happy Meal if you think I'm just gonna stand here while you climb on a bus to fuck knows where."

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," she told him then turned away and started walking towards the exit to the passenger loading area. Five steps later Charlie squealed in indignation as she was jerked back around. This time a shoulder planted itself in her midsection and lifted her into the air. Dean carried her through the crowd as though she weighed next to nothing, ignoring the pounding of her fists against his lower back. Once again, he slapped her ass, this time hard enough to sting.

He gave the two cops who'd stopped them a cocky salute as he passed them by. Dean couldn't help but grin, "Looks like I won."


	11. Chapter 11

To Mandalynn23, SexySadie88, HarlowZappa, Jackie Rogers, Supernatuaralobbsessed and 1983Sarah: Thank you so much for taking the time to review my story. I'm glad you're all enjoying it as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to update. I've been watching Season 1 again. sigh

But without further ado, let's see what these crazy kids are going to get themselves into next…

--

After three and a half hours of on the road, Dean had had enough. Ever since he'd dumped Charlie into his car back in Denver she'd been sulking in the passenger seat, refusing to look at him much less be bothered to string together a sentence that didn't include the words 'fuck you'. She was staring determinedly out the window with her arms crossed and her jaw firmly set.

"All right," Dean announced as he whipped the Impala onto the highway shoulder. Twisting around to face her he said, "Enough with the silent treatment. How 'bout you level with me and tell me just what the fuck is going on?"

Charlie didn't move a muscle, she didn't so much as twitch, nothing that would indicate she'd even heard him. If it weren't for the fact that he could see the steady rise and fall of her chest, Dean could have mistaken her for a mannequin. He snapped his fingers in front of her face. "Anybody home over there?"

"Fuck you," she replied for the sixth time since being carried out of the bus station.

Dean grinned and said, "Just say the word, sweetheart."

Turning her head, Charlie narrowed her eyes. She was running on good old fashioned righteous indignation and that alone was holding her together. Sure, she was furious with Dean for his rough treatment of her and the way he'd ignored what she wanted and just dumped her in his car. But she was also angry with herself. She'd let her guard down and somehow, someway he'd managed to slip through. Sweet Jesus in a manager but his lips had felt good, so good in fact that she'd forgotten where she was, had lost all sense of anything that wasn't Dean. That momentary distraction had landed her right where she was now, in his car instead of a Greyhound.

The man just didn't get it. Not all evil came in the shape of demons and spirits. Aaron was obsessed with her, he was crazy and he was a very real threat. The moment he'd said the words, "if I can't have you" Charlie's blood had run cold. The man was deranged, plain and simple. He'd already hurt her once. She didn't doubt he would do it again just as she didn't doubt he'd hurt her dad, Dean or Sam.

"Look, Dean," she began, deliberately ignoring the tingle his words had given her, "I know you're only trying to help, but you can't. You've got more important things to do than rescue me."

"I can decide for myself what's important, so stop dodging the question. What the hell are you really running from? It's obviously more than this Allen or Adam or whatever his name is. So what gives?"

Charlie shook her head and looked back out the window. Biting her lip, she fought against the sudden burn of tears behind her eyes. The last thing she wanted to do was cry in front of Dean. It seemed as though she'd been crying almost non-stop for the past five months. Her life had never been picture perfect but it had been a fucking nightmare ever since that night. With trembling fingers, she wiped her eyes and took a deep, unsteady breath. She hadn't told her father the whole truth about her step-brother and what he'd done to her. In fact, she'd omitted several of the more crucial details, details she wasn't ready to share.

When Charlie didn't speak right away, Dean said, "Well? You gonna answer or not?" She swallowed hard and that's when he noticed it, a pale, white scar beneath her jaw. It was about an inch and a half long and from the looks of it, it hadn't been there very long. He reached up to trace it with his index finger but pulled his hand back when she jerked away from him.

She was out of the car a moment later and walking determinedly down the rural highway. Crossing her arms around her middle, Charlie ducked her head against the wind as she fought back the onslaught of memories that simple touch had released. She was shaking by the time Dean caught up to her.

He grabbed her by the arm for the second time that day, yanking her around to face him. Only this time, she struck out at him. Dean ducked out of the way just barely in time to miss her fist as it flew at his head. He caught her arm easily and spun her, wrapping his arms around her as he held her to his chest. Lost in the terror she was currently reliving, Charlie continued to fight him, struggling against his hold on her body.

She bucked back against him. "Let me go!" she shouted. Then as his arms tightened, panic seeped into her voice. "Please let me go. Not like this. Please, God. Not like this."

Hot tears slipped down her cheeks and splashed on Dean's hands where he held her. He might not be as smart as his brother but he could put two and two together and get four. Impotent rage like he'd never known he could feel coursed through him. Whoever this guy was who'd hurt her was going to wish he'd never been born. And when Dean was through with him, Bobby could have whatever was left.

Very slowly, he let go of Charlie's arms and stepped back from her, all the while whispering soothing words to her, reminding her of who he was and where they were. She fell onto her hands and knees, sobbing, great big hiccuping sobs that tore at Dean's heart. A few days ago, he would have loved to have discovered a chink in the woman's armor, something he could've exploited for the sheer pleasure of getting her riled up. But now, seeing the pain she'd been hiding behind that lippy, arrogant attitude he found himself wanting to take all that hurt away.

Maybe that was why found himself scooping her up off the frozen ground and settling her back into his car. She didn't struggle, didn't so much as make a sound when he fastened the seatbelt over her lap and covered her with a blanket. On impulse, he brushed a kiss over her forehead and whispered that everything was going to be okay.

"I promise," Dean said softly as he started the Impala's engine. "No one's ever gonna hurt you again."

He drove hard. Hour after hour, the countryside passed by while Charlie slept in the backseat. She stirred occasionally but didn't say much, other than voicing a need for the restroom or something to eat. Dean's fear that she might try to take off again passed after the third stop when she moved back to the front seat of the car and began rifling through his cassette collection. It was a little after midnight when they pulled into a motel lot in Evansville, Indiana.

"We don't have to stop," Dean said as he shut off the engine. "We can keep going."

Charlie shook her head. "No, we both need the rest. Neither one of us got much sleep last night."

"You gonna bolt on me again? 'Cause if you are, I'm just gonna end up cuffing you to the bed."

"Kinky little fucker, aren't ya?" she asked with a small, mischievous smile.

Dean was still chuckling when he paid for the room. He'd never admit it, but he'd been worried about her for awhile there. He didn't do well with chick flick moments and Charlie's meltdown by the highway had certainly qualified. Okay, so if what he suspected was true, then it was definitely justified but that didn't mean he had any idea of how to deal with it. Oh, he knew how he was going to deal with the bastard who'd hurt her, he just didn't know how he was going to deal with Charlie if she broke down like that again.

She was yawning widely when he slid back into the car and drove around to the back of the motel, parking just outside their room. Inside, they worked together to set up the standard defenses, salting the door and windows before tucking a knife beneath their respective pillows.

They undressed in silence before sliding into their beds. In the near dark of the room, they lay on their sides facing one another. Neither bothered to pretend to be asleep.

"Dean?" Charlie asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Yeah?" he grunted.

Biting her lip, she replied, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Doesn't matter. Just thanks, okay?"

Dean sighed and flipped onto his back. "Sure. Whatever." He tossed an arm over his head before adding, "We should catch up to your dad and Sam tomorrow."

Charlie didn't say anything for a long time. When she did finally speak, she wasn't even sure he was still awake. She still wasn't ready to spill her guts but the truth had been weighing her down for so long that it was forcing its way out before she even realized she was talking.

"I don't know why I let him inside the house. Mom had already left for the airfield and most of the household staff had already gone home for the weekend. Maybe it was just a reflex or maybe I was so sure that he wouldn't try anything. Whatever the reason, I opened the door and let him in. I should have known better. I _did _know better. I just never expected him to take things that far. Oh, God."

She stopped for a minute, swallowing past the lump that had formed in her throat. "At first, he was just being the same old Aaron, asking me when I was going to let him take me out. I laughed him off like I always did but there was something in the way he was looking at me that day. I excused myself for a moment. I went into Mom's bathroom because it was the closest and pulled my phone out of my pocket. I was going to call our chauffeur, Mickey. Aaron was making me uncomfortable and Mickey lives in the apartment over the garage. I managed to get about half of his number dialed before everything went black. When I came to, my head was throbbing and…and Aaron…oh, God…he was _inside _me. I fought him but it was all over a couple of minutes later. I must have knocked over one of the candles Mom keeps along the tub because I cut my neck on one of the shards. Somehow I got my fingers around it and I cut him."

Dean's voice was hoarse and raspy when he said, "This didn't just happen, did it?"

"No," Charlie admitted on a sigh. "It's been almost five months. I went to the hospital that night and had my neck stitched up. I never said anything about the rape and it wouldn't have mattered if I had. Aaron's dad is a district attorney. Mom came back from Europe and I went on with life as usual. I graduated from college, took a job at one of the museums downtown, and tried to forget it ever happened."

"But you couldn't," he guessed.

"Aaron wouldn't let me forget it. He was constantly showing up at our house. In his mind, we were a couple, something he was all too happy to tell my mother and his dad. They were ecstatic. I was beyond miserable. Finding out I was pregnant didn't help matters much. I had every intention of killing it. I didn't want a reminder of what that son of a bitch had done to me. In the end, the choice wasn't up to me. I slipped in a puddle at the museum and fell down a flight of stairs. I woke up in the hospital a day later and was told by a very apologetic nurse that I'd lost the baby. I think I shocked her when I said 'good'.

"A few days after that, I was released from the hospital and back into the nightmare that had become my life. I finally broke down and told my mom what had happened that night. But she couldn't see beyond the fortune that Aaron will inherit when his grandfather dies and kept pushing me to forgive him and accept his proposal. After learning that he'd forced a baby on me, Aaron had warmed to the idea of being a father and was more determined than ever. I knew I had to get out. So, I ran. I ran to the only person who could help."

Dean didn't trust himself to speak for a long time. He lay there looking up at the ceiling wondering who he hated more. The bastard who'd actually raped her or her mother who cared more for money than her own daughter. As soon as his business with Lilith was concluded, he was going to pay the both of them a visit.

"You did the right thing, Charlie," he told her softly.

"Did I?" she asked. "I'm not so sure anymore. I fucked up, Dean. I used one of my credit cards back in Colorado. Somehow, Aaron traced it. He knows who you and Dad and Sam are. That's why I was running. He said if he can't have me, then no one will. I've never been so scared."

Chuckling, Dean said, "After you've faced a demon or two, this dude'll be nothing."

"Thanks," Charlie snorted. "That really helps a lot." Several minutes of silence went by before she spoke again. "Please don't tell my dad."

Her voice was small and childlike and Dean felt his heart melt a little bit more. He was entering into dangerous territory. Having feelings for anyone at this stage of the game was dangerous. He couldn't afford the distraction. But somehow, right then he couldn't bring himself to care.

Reaching out towards where she lay in the other bed, he whispered, "Come here." Charlie moved to his side a heartbeat later, curling herself around him as though she belonged there and Dean would be damned if it didn't feel as though she did.


	12. Chapter 12

The shrill ringing of his cell phone woke Dean the next morning. He reached blindly for it, his fingers knocking over a half-empty Mountain Dew bottle from the night before. It fell onto its side and rolled a few inches away. His fingers bumped against it a few more times before they found the phone. Picking it up, he pressed 'ok' and held it to his ear.

"'Lo?" he whispered sleepily.

"Where are you?" Sam asked on the other end.

Dean groaned. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"It's six thirty. Where are you?"

"Evansville."

Yawning, Charlie stretched her right arm out in front of her before snuggling deeper into Dean's side. "Who's that?" she asked against his chest.

He curled his arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple. "It's just Sam," he answered softly. "Go back to sleep." To his brother he said, "We'll be on the road in an hour or so. Where are we meeting?"

"Dude, tell me that wasn't Charlie," Sam said.

"Shut up," Dean replied.

"Hey, it's your ass, brother."

"You're one to talk. At least Charlie's human. Speaking of which, how's that lip of yours?"

"Hurts like a bitch," Sam laughed then bit back a moan of pain. "Ribs aren't much better. Thanks for that."

"You deserved it. Where'd you say we're meeting?"

"We're in Adams, Tennessee."

"What's in Adams? What happened to going to Florida, Cassadaga or wherever it was?"

"Bell Witch Cave. I'll fill you in when you get here."

Dean hung up a few minutes later and tossed his phone onto the other bed. He was wide awake now, any hope of falling back asleep long gone. According to Sam, they were only a few hours away from Adams. If they were going to make it before noon, they would need to get on the road soon.

He turned his nose into Charlie's hair and sighed. She smelled good, she felt good and she'd been through hell. And she'd done it alone. Dean's arms tightened around her reflexively.

Propping her chin up on his chest, Charlie looked up at Dean with heavy lidded eyes. "Hey," she smiled.

"Hey yourself," he replied before pushing her hair behind her ear. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I think I am. I mean, I'm still afraid of what might happen, but the other stuff? I carried it around so long it feels pretty good to let it go."

Charlie hadn't realized until last night just how much keeping it all in had taken out of her. This morning, she felt lighter and happier than she had in a long time. Sure, Aaron was still a problem of potentially epic proportions but now she didn't feel as though she had to shoulder that worry alone. Wrapped in Dean's arms in the quiet of the morning, she felt protected. She felt safe.

"Why me?" he asked as he stared into her eyes. When she looked away, he placed a hand on her cheek and turned her face back to his. "I wouldn't exactly call us friends, Charlie. So why tell me?"

She bit her lip and answered truthfully, "Because I trust you."

Dean didn't know what to say to that. It seemed like an awful lot of people had been putting a lot of trust in him lately and the look in Charlie's eyes at that moment was more humbling than being delivered from Hell on the orders of God himself. Suddenly overcome by unfamiliar emotion, Dean mumbled that he needed to take a leak and disappeared into the bathroom.

Behind the closed door, he leaned on the sink and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Jesus, what was happening to him? He was on the verge of hyperventilating and all because someone had put their trust in him? He knew there was a lot more to it than that, he'd be lying to himself if he tried to tell himself different. But she was Bobby's daughter. She'd been raped for fuck's sake. He couldn't touch her the way his body was screaming at him to, he wouldn't. She deserved better. God help him, but he wanted her. He wanted her like he wanted to keep on breathing.

Angry with himself, Dean pushed away from the sink and wrenched on the shower faucet. He shed his clothes quickly and stepped under the icy spray. He stayed there as long as he could stand it, hoping it would cool his mounting attraction to the half-naked woman in his bed. Unbidden, memories of how she'd looked back in Leadville rose up in his mind, naked and flushed with sleep, hair a mess and her eyes glued to his cock. Groaning, Dean turned the heat up on the water before reaching for his throbbing erection.

"I'm going to hell," he mumbled before he began jacking himself off.

In the bedroom, confusion knitted Charlie's brow as she sat up in the bed, perplexed by Dean's odd behavior. For a moment, she'd been positive he was going to kiss her and then he'd just jumped up and made a B-line for the bathroom. Was it because of what she'd told him the night before? Had she made a mistake in telling him about what had really happened between Aaron and herself? Damn, she just didn't understand him. Determined to get some answers, she threw back the covers, marched across the motel room and pounded on the door.

"What the hell is your problem?" she shouted. When Dean didn't respond, she called his name. He still didn't answer. Instead, she heard the shower come on. "Oh no you don't," she muttered, realizing he wasn't going to answer her. Charlie tested the doorknob and wasn't surprised to find it locked. Yeah right, as if that would stop her from getting inside. She rummaged through his bag until she found his pick kit. A twist or two later and the lock sprung free. She shoved the door open hard causing it to bounce on its hinges.

"Jesus Christ!" Dean shouted in alarm from behind the shower curtain. "What the fuck, Charlie?!"

"What the fuck, Dean?" she countered as she ripped the curtain back. She'd seen him naked before but not like this. Water was cascading down his chest and torso in fat rivulets drawing her attention to the thick muscles there. Her eyes went as wide as saucers when she saw his erect cock fisted in his right hand. "Oh," she whispered hoarsely. Mary, Joseph and all the shepherds, the man had a beautiful body but his dick was a work of freaking art. He was long and thick and very, very hard. She was reaching for him before she realized it.

Dean took a step back, holding out a hand towards her. "Get outta here, Charlie," he managed.

Planting her hand on his chest instead, Charlie gave him a good shove. His back hit the cold shower tile and he hissed. "I'm serious, Charlie. Get the fuck out of here."

Smiling mischievously, she said, "Make me," before pulling her over-sized tee shirt over her head and stepping into the shower with him. She was on her knees a second later. Any thought Dean had of forcing her to leave fled his mind with the first swipe of her tongue along his engorged flesh.

Looking up into his eyes, Charlie was surprised by the pained expression on his face. "You don't have to do this," he whispered.

"I'm not made of glass, Dean. I want this. I want _you_," she assured him.

When her mouth closed around him, he groaned and buried one of his hands in her hair, the other found hers and threaded their fingers together. Oh God, how long had it been since someone had touched him, loved him like this? The feel of her tongue, the sweet suction of her mouth, the twisting of her palm, it was fucking amazing but it was too much. He didn't want to come in her mouth. He wanted to come in _her_.

He tugged at her hair. "Charlie," he breathed. "Charlie, stop."

She released him with a soft 'pop' and asked, "Why?"

His answer was to jerk her roughly to her feet before stepping out of the shower and slamming her against the bathroom wall. Dean swallowed her gasp of surprise with his mouth, slanting it over hers and delving deep, taking everything she had to give with one, fiery, consuming kiss. One of his hands found her thigh while the other palmed her ass before he hoisted her up, positioning himself at her entrance.

Their eyes met and she could see the question in his. Nodding, she said, "Now." Charlie screamed his name as he buried himself within her in a single smooth stroke. She locked her legs around his hips before breathing the word 'more' against his lips. With every kiss, with every thrust of his hips, Dean was washing away the memory of that night. He made love with every part of himself, with his lips, tongue, mouth, eyes, with every beautiful inch. Charlie held on tight, riding him, meeting him stroke for stroke as their bodies strained against one another. When the tide broke, she road the crest until she came with a shuddering draining climax, screaming "Dean!" a second time.

"Fuck," Dean ground out between his clenched teeth as her body clenched down around him. His legs were turning to Jell-O and the muscles of his ass were burning from the effort it took to hold them both up but he didn't want to move for fear of losing this feeling. It was unlike anything he'd ever felt. She was unlike anyone he'd ever been with. He couldn't remember anything more beautiful as Charlie's face in the throws of orgasm. Her kiss-swollen lips were parted as she panted, trying to catch her breath. Her eyes were dilated and glassy. But it was the single, fat tear sliding down her cheek that did him in, shoving Dean over the edge with her.

"Fuck, fuck, shit. Oh, fuck. Charlie…gonna come…" he grunted as his own orgasm tore through his body and poured itself into hers.

Their post-coital bliss quickly turned to hilarity as Dean's legs finally gave out and they both came crashing to the bathroom floor. Charlie landed on his chest and Dean took an elbow to his eyebrow in process. Naked, wet and laughing they held onto each other until the humor wore off and they were left with the uncomfortable, unspoken question of what next.

Looking down into his green eyes, Charlie bit her lip. She didn't regret being with him, she couldn't. It had been the most incredible sex of her life but she'd entered into dangerous territory. Her dad hadn't made it a secret how he felt about the prospect of her being with Dean and the last thing she wanted to do was come between them. Especially not now, not when there was so much at stake. Could she play the cold hearted bitch and push him away? He reached up with both hands and after pushing her hair away from her face pulled her down for a deep, probing kiss. No, she couldn't do that to him. He'd said they weren't friends and he'd been right. They were something deeper, more elemental than mere friends. No, she couldn't let him go. Charlie was suddenly very afraid that she'd never be able to let him go.

Dean watched the play of emotions over her face. It was only too easy to see what she was thinking. He was thinking it too. Bobby was going to kill him. He'd broken his promise not to touch her and the worst of it was he planned to do so again just as soon as he was able. Already he could feel his dick stirring. God, she was amazing. As he kissed her, he could taste the salt of her tears and that special something that was uniquely Charlie. That something that got to him like a drug and made him crave her all the more. The smart thing to do would be to forget this had ever happened. He knew she was thinking the same thing but he also knew that she couldn't do that anymore than he could.

Without breaking the kiss, Dean reached down and grasped her by her hips. He lifted her just a bit then angled his hips and thrust up into her wet, welcoming heat again. Charlie moaned into his mouth and curled her fingers into his hair. Oh God yes, he shouted silently as she ground down against him. Over and over, she raised herself up then slammed back down, reveling in the feeling of him ramming against her cervix, somewhere between pleasure and pain. Bracing her palms against his chest, Charlie arched her spine and threw her head back, chanting his name.

A light cough sounded from somewhere in the bedroom and her eyes flew open. Every muscle in her body went rigid at the sight of a strange trench coat-clad man sitting on the foot of the bed, eyeing her questioningly. Dean looked up at Charlie when she stopped moving, confused by her sudden lack of participation. He twisted his neck around and followed her panicked gaze. Recognizing the intruder, he growled.

"Fuck, Cas," he bit out as he reached for the bathroom door and slammed it. "How about some privacy, dude?"


	13. Chapter 13

The dock was silent and dark, littered with crumpled newspaper and cardboard boxes that had been broken down in a compactor. A single, flickering lamp lit the area, casting a long shadow behind the woman's small figure as she waited with her hands shoved into her jacket pockets. Her gut was twisting with the knowledge that this was probably the worst idea in the history of bad ideas but her heart told her she was doing the right thing. The realization that she loved him, had probably been in love with him for some time now, had been the catalyst. If things remained as they were, he would die. They would find a way to use her to get to him. It was better this way.

A gust of wind caused the paper around her feet to flutter by like tumbleweeds and she knew then that he was there. It was the moment of truth. He could very well kill her before she spoke. She wouldn't blame him if he did. After all, they were natural enemies. But she had to try.

"I didn't think you would come," she said quietly, eyes downcast.

He approached her slowly, each step measured, power rolling off of him in frightening waves. "I didn't expect your call. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't just kill you now and be on my way."

It took every ounce of courage she possessed to raise her eyes and look at him. She'd heard what had happened to others like herself who'd seen him. Her breath whooshed out in relief to see that he'd chosen to appear in human form. It was a small concession but it was one she would gladly accept. Perhaps there was hope.

"I don't want to hurt him," she confessed. "Or any of them. But eventually I will. It's what _they _want."

Locking his hands behind his back, Castiel's lips drew back into a snarl, "You're not doing a very good job of convincing me not to kill you, Ruby."

She sighed heavily and ran a shaking hand through her hair. "That's exactly what I want you to do. I want you to kill me. But I want _her _to live."

"Why would you do this?" he asked in confusion. "Why do you care what happens to them or your host?"

Ruby sat down on a plastic milk crate and replied, "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. None of it was. I never even thought it was possible but suddenly there it was and now I can't even see my way clear of it."

Castiel's eyes widened in understanding and he laughed softly. "You love him."

"I love him," she repeated, looking up at the angel with sad, tear-filled eyes. "They're already angry with me for failing to kill Dean on the mountain. I'm supposed to do it in the cave in Tennessee. But I can't. I won't do that to Sam."

Kneeling down, the angel cupped her chin and asked, "Why did you call me?"

"I need you to ask Dean to exorcise me and when I'm free of this body, I want you to kill me. I won't go back to hell where they can use me again."

"And Sam?"

"He won't understand but he should be there. He has to know that this is my choice."

"Very well," Castiel said as he stood. "It will be done."

* * *

Charlie showered while Dean and their mysterious visitor spoke privately in the bedroom. He'd called the man Cas and she could only assume he was the mysterious Castiel. It wasn't every day that a girl found herself locking eyes with an angel, let alone doing so while she was on her knees mid-coitus. Okay, so maybe she'd been screaming 'God' and 'Jesus' but she hadn't actually expected either to show up. Technically neither had, but you get the idea. Shocked just didn't seem to adequately describe her reaction to the angel's presence.

After Dean had slammed the door, she'd scrambled up off him to sit on the toilet. With her head between her knees, she'd fought to catch her breath while he cursed a litany of 'fuck' and 'son of a bitch', snatched a towel off the rack and after wrapping around his waist stalked back into the other room to give Castiel a piece of his mind.

Now, as she stared at her reflection in the slightly foggy bathroom mirror, Charlie wondered at the angel's timing. How long had he been sitting there? How much had he seen? There were a lot of people who would classify what they'd been doing as a sin. A lot of people who considered sex outside of marriage to be the same as adultery. Would he condemn them? Would God change his mind about choosing Dean as his champion? Would He send him back to hell?

Her curiosity finally got the better of her and Charlie opened the door a fraction so that she could hear what was being said. Peering through the crack into the dimly lit room, she was surprised to find Dean alone, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. He had pulled on a pair of jeans but hadn't bothered with a shirt. His shoulders shook and Charlie's heart lodged itself in her throat. He couldn't be crying, could he? Dean Winchester was a hard ass. Guys like him didn't cry.

Pulling her towel more securely around her body, Charlie stepped out of the bathroom and padded across the room to where he sat. She placed a hand on his shoulder but jerked it back an instant later when he looked up at her. He was crying all right, but he was laughing too. Laughing so hard that his whole body shook with it.

Angry with herself, she slapped him, harder than she should have. The crack of her palm echoed in the stillness of the room. Dean raised a hand and fingered his jaw, opening and closing his mouth to test it.

"What the hell was that for?" he asked.

Charlie shrugged. "Where's your friend?" she said trying to change the subject thereby avoiding what would have been an embarrassing admission of concern.

"He's gone."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she tossed her wet hair over her shoulder and asked, "What did he want?" When Dean didn't answer she said, "Okay. Don't tell me. How about you tell me what was so funny instead?"

"I've got a better idea," Dean grinned as he reached for her towel.

Charlie squealed and swatted at his hands. She darted to the left around the other side of the bed. "Don't you dare, Dean Winchester. You're not getting off that easily."

"Oh, but that's exactly what I'm going to do. Right after I get you off."

He faked right and when she moved the opposite way, he dove across the bed, catching her around her waist, tackling her to the mattress. They wrestled around for several minutes until her towel was long gone and his unbuttoned jeans were slipping down his hips. Dean held her wrists to the bed and looked down into her eyes. She was panting hard, her breasts heaving with the effort to catch her breath.

Something foreign unfurled in his stomach as Dean leaned down and brushed his lips against Charlie's. Once upon a time he'd felt something similar, back when he was with Cassie. But this? This was so much more, deeper, stronger somehow. It terrified him but right then he didn't care. The feeling of her foot pressing into the back of his thigh as she used it to push his jeans further down had him groaning into her mouth and deepening the kiss. His tongue slipped inside to taste and tease. When her other leg hooked itself over his hip pulling him down to her core, Dean was lost. Being inside Charlie was like coming home, or would be if he'd ever had a home to go to. She was where he began and where he ended. She was everything he never knew he'd been missing.

Her hips bucked up into his, meeting him stroke for stroke. Her fingers dug into the skin of his back. Her teeth scraped his neck and shoulder. And when Charlie came on a broken cry, Dean followed, grunting her name into her neck. Moments later, when he was able to move again, he pushed himself up. Smiling down at her, he realized Castiel had been telling him the truth. Good things do happen. How else could he explain the amazing woman in his arms?

He didn't want to believe that God had chosen him anymore than he wanted to believe the guy really existed. Nothing made sense anymore. He'd been raised fighting off evil, killing what needed killing. His father had soul his soul to save his life, just as Dean had sold his own to save his brother. He'd spent four months in hell only to be ripped from the pit by an angel. And tonight, when they reached Adams, he was going to help a demon die for love. It was a hard concept to swallow, a demon in love. It was just another shade in an endless sea of gray.

At first, he hadn't believed Castiel, had laughed out loud at the idea. But the more he'd listened, the more he'd begun to hope. Before he'd left, Castiel had said to him, "As it is written in Corinthians…these three remain: faith hope and love. But the greatest of these is love."

He hadn't understood then what he was trying to say. Now, lying in Charlie's arms he was suddenly afraid he just might.


	14. Chapter 14

Every instinct Ruby possessed rebelled at what she was planning to do. Self-preservation was practically rule number one for demon-kind. Martyrdom wasn't a concept they were all that familiar with to say nothing of love itself. She'd never expected to feel this way, hadn't known it was even possible. But she loved Sam and she wasn't going to stand by and do nothing. He might have been tainted by a demon when he was just a baby but he had grown up into a man who was more kind and beautiful than any other human she'd ever met. She'd be damned if she was going to watch him go down a road that would eventually turn him into something dark and ugly.

Ruby's hand shook as she raised it to knock on the motel room door. She managed a quick double tap and stood back to wait. He wasn't expecting her. He definitely wasn't expecting what was about to go down. If there were any other way, any other option she would gladly have taken it. She didn't want to die, but if her death would save him it was a sacrifice Ruby would gladly make.

A moment later, the door opened a few inches.

"Ruby?" Sam said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Hiya, Sam," she replied with a forced smile. "Can I come in for a minute? We need to talk."

"Yeah, sure," he said as he took a step back and allowed her to pass beneath his outstretched arm.

To cover the shaking in her hands, Ruby shoved them in her back pockets as she walked inside. Her nerves were standing on end and she didn't have much time. The others weren't all that far behind. She knew what needed to be said, she just wasn't sure how to say it or even if she could.

"What's wrong, Ruby?" Sam asked taking her by her shoulders and turning her to face him. "You're shaking."

Swallowing hard, she raised watery eyes up to his and tried to smile. "I'm not good at goodbyes, Sam. But that's what this is, that's what it has to be."

Confusion knit his brow and he tightened his hold on her shoulders. "Goodbye? What are you talking about? Is this about Dean and me? About the fight?"

"No," she said shaking her head. "It's about me, Sam. You told me once you weren't sure you trusted me. You shouldn't. I'm everything your brother ever warned you about. Oh, God." Ruby raised a hand to her mouth as she fought back a sob. "I wasn't helping you learn how to use your powers because I wanted to help you fight demons. I was helping you so that eventually you'd be one."

The floor felt as though it dropped away from Sam's feet and he stumbled back a step until the back of his thigh hit the dresser. She was lying. She had to be.

"I don't believe you," he whispered harshly.

"I was sent to you, to gain your trust and to teach you. I was just following orders."

"You're telling me it was a lie? All of it?" he growled.

The tears she'd been fighting spilled onto her cheeks as Ruby replied brokenly, "Yes."

Rage tore through Sam, welling up from his gut and manifesting itself in one powerful swipe of his arm across the cluttered surface of the dresser he was leaning against. Books, notes and one hideous bear-shaped ceramic lamp were thrown to the floor. When he rounded on her, ready to strike, the anger left him like a balloon deflating. She stood there in the center of the room weeping, staring at him with wide, heartbroken eyes.

Something wasn't right, he could feel it. "Why are you doing this, Ruby?"

"I…" she began but stopped at a loud rapping on the door. "You'd better answer that," she said. "It's your brother."When Sam didn't move, just stood there staring at her, Ruby sighed and opened it herself. "Welcome to the party, Dean," she quipped. "Glad you could make it."

"Brought a few friends with me, Ruby. Hope you don't mind," Dean said as he stepped over the broken lamp. "Looks like you started without us though."

"Not a problem. Good to see you, Bobby, Charlie. Where's your boy?" she asked, noting the angel's absence.

"Who, Cas?" Dean said raising an eyebrow. "He'll be along in a minute. So, you ready to do this?"

"Do what?" Sam demanded. "Would someone please tell me just what is going on here?"

The older Winchester leveled a hard gaze at the demon and said, "You didn't tell him? Oh, that's just perfect. What the hell were you waiting for, Ruby? A written invitation?"

"What was I supposed to say exactly? It's not like I've ever done this before, Dean."

"Whatever," he said, waving her off. He squatted down and after pulling a piece of chalk from his bag, began drawing on the floor. Occasionally, he had to brush a piece of debris out of the way, but he managed to have the circle drawn quickly and accurately. When he'd finished, he stood and dusted his hands off on his jeans.

"What the hell are you doing, Dean? What the hell is that?" Sam asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

"You should probably ask you girlfriend, Sammy," he answered. Then to Ruby, he said, "Do you want a chair or something?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't want a chair. Just catch her when it's done."

"You got it."

It took a moment for her words to register but Sam understood just what they implied. He watched in growing horror as Ruby took a deep breath and stepped inside the circle.

"Don't do this, Ruby. You don't have to do this. We'll find another way."

When she looked up at him, she was crying in earnest. "There is no other way, Sam. I came to Colorado to kill Dean. When the moment came, I couldn't do it. One way or another, I'm going to die. I want to die on my terms, before I hurt you. I won't let you become like me. I'm sorry, Sam. It has to be this way."

Sam reached out for her, cupping the side of her face. "I don't believe you," he said softly, wiping away her tears with the pad of his thumb.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. Looking past his shoulder to where Castiel now stood, she nodded. "I'm ready."

Dean nodded. Handing the journal to Charlie, he said, "Do it just like we talked about in the car. Read the Latin word for word and don't stop no matter what happens."

"I don't know if I can do this, Dean. I haven't read Latin since high school," she replied, looking at him with terrified eyes.

"You're gonna do great," he assured her then impulsively placed a quick, hard kiss on her lips. "We'll be right here with you."

Bobby raised an eyebrow and shot the younger man a dark look that promised retribution. He was no idiot. He'd noticed a difference in the way his daughter looked at Dean and vice versa ever since they'd met up that afternoon. He wanted nothing more than to wring that boy's neck but right now wasn't the time, they had bigger fish to fry. Stepping beside Sam, he took a hold of his left arm and the collar while his brother took his right.

"Now, Charlie," Dean said.

Wind whipped around the room, lifting papers and causing the metal blinds to sway. Ruby's body began to writhe and convulse as the words were spoken. Pain riddled her body and she dropped to her knees, crying out.

"No!" Sam screamed. "Stop this! You have to stop it. Please, Dean!"

"It's okay," Ruby managed to say, her voice small and weak. "I have to go. I love you, Sam."

"Ruby! NO!!"

Seconds later Charlie finished the incantation and the black cloud of smoke that erupted from her mouth was replaced by blinding white light as Castiel unsheathed his sword and took Ruby's life. It was over almost as quickly as it began. The woman who had been her host swayed on her feet. Dean caught her just before she fell to the ground. Her eyes were cloudy and unfocused but she was breathing. Moaning, she raised a trembling hand and gripped his jacket. "Get me the fuck away from him," she whispered just before she passed out. Dean scooped her up and carried her next door to Charlie's room.

Sam didn't speak as his brother took the woman from the room. He stared sightlessly at the circle unable to believe that Ruby was gone. A knot formed in his stomach and he suddenly felt like he was going to be sick. She'd said she loved him. She'd died to save him, just like Dean. But unlike his brother, Ruby wouldn't be coming back. The angel had seen to that.

"Why?" he croaked.

"You got me," Bobby said. "You're better off asking him." A shrug of his shoulder in Castiel's direction told Sam who _he _was. He was the last person or being he felt like talking to at that moment.

"Ruby made a choice, Sam," the angel said softly, ignoring the scathing look that was sent his direction. "She chose you."

"So someone else died because of me. That's just fucking great. Excuse me if I fail to see the good in that."

"Sam, Ruby was a demon but she found something her kind rarely ever do: redemption. She found that in you. Her love for you was real, it was her salvation. Don't take that away from her."

Closing his eyes, Sam sank down onto the bed trying to absorb what had just happened. He'd cared for Ruby but he didn't know if he could have called it love. Guilt had eaten away at him all the times he'd had sex with her, knowing full well that the body she inhabited wasn't her own. It had eaten away at him with every demon he'd exorcised, knowing that he should have done the same to her. She'd kept that woman a prisoner in her own body for months and he'd done nothing to stop. He'd been so consumed by his own grief and his own need for revenge that he'd ignored what he knew to be right. He hadn't been lying when he promised Dean he was done using his powers. But he hadn't been ready to let Ruby go. She'd been there for him when life had been it's darkest. They'd shared a bond, something indefinable and now it was gone, she was gone.

When he looked up, Castiel had left and Bobby was sitting at the small Formica table in the corner watching him.

"You gonna be okay, boy?" the older hunter asked concerned.

Sam shook his head. "I don't know."

"I won't pretend that I understand where you're at, because I just can't. But I can listen if you need to talk."

"Thanks, Bobby," he said. "I might take you up on that later."

A half-empty bottle of Jim Beam appeared before his face. "Take a swig or two of this," Charlie offered. "Tastes like shit but it will help with the pain."

Snorting, Sam took the bottle from her and after uncapping it, took a long drink, swallowing down the bitter liquor. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and muttered a thank you.

Charlie squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek before hugging her father goodnight. "I'm going to check on...things, then turn it. See you in the morning, Dad."

When she closed the door to Sam's room, Charlie leaned her forehead against it. She'd just participated in an exorcism, had performed it in point of fact. Nothing in her life could have prepared her for such a thing. She'd watched on shaking legs as Ruby had been ripped from that woman's body and then cleaved in two by the angel's sword. It was suddenly too much. Stumbling to the bushes near the stairwell, Charlie threw up.

She was bent over with one hand braced on the stucco wall and the other on her knee when she heard someone saying her name.

"Charlie, Charlie, Charlie," the smooth, cultured voice admonished. "How the mighty have fallen."

Slowly, she turned her head. "Fuck you, Aaron," she spat before her stomach started heaving again.

"Oh, yes," he said tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear and laughed when she jerked away from his touch. "You will."


	15. Chapter 15

Charlie woke to a pounding head and the worst case of cotton mouth she'd ever experienced. How could she have been so stupid, so incredibly naïve as to lower her guard around him? Hadn't she already learned that lesson the hard way? Swallowing past the dryness, she tested the ropes that bound her wrists over her head on the plush bed. The knot wasn't very secure and she was pretty sure she'd be able to get out of easily. She set to work on it as she raised her head from the pillow to get a good look at her surroundings.

Aaron was nothing if not predictable. From the looks of it, he'd taken her to a fairly expensive hotel. Probably had one of his dad's thugs sneak her in through the service entrance. Prick. God, but she hated him. Worse, she hated her reaction to him. He still made her skin crawl, still made her want to run screaming the other direction. Maybe if she had, she wouldn't be here now, tied spread eagle to a four-poster. Charlie still had most of her clothes on and that gave her a small measure of reassurance. But knowing Aaron and his psychoses it wouldn't take him long to get around to correcting that mistake.

Quickly and methodically, she worked her hands free of the rope and sat up to untie her ankles. Obviously Aaron had never been a boy scout. Once free, Charlie leaped off the bed and began searching the room for anything she could use as a weapon. She discarded a large, brass candle holder and bypassed a porcelain urn but hit pay dirt with the bed post. Unscrewing it from the foot board, she wielded it like a baseball bat when her captor came to check on her.

The rice carved post struck Aaron across the face with a sickening 'thwack' before she brought it down again over his shoulders. The blows were followed up with a couple of hard kicks to his abdomen. Satisfied that he was down and wouldn't be getting up, Charlie rolled him onto his back and searched his jacket pockets. When her fingers closed around the taser he'd struck her with she pulled it out and shoved in her back pocket. Too bad she'd already knocked the son of a bitch out. She would love for him to feel just what that fucking thing did to a person.

She took what cash he had in his wallet and shoved it in her other pocket before dragging him to the foot of the bed where she tied him up using a knot her father had shown her how to tie, a knot Aaron wouldn't be getting free of without help. Before Charlie walked away, she kicked him again for good measure. All the pain and fear she'd been feeling for the past several months seemed to catch up to her all at once and she suddenly couldn't stop kicking him, even after he came to.

"Please, Charlie," he begged, spitting out blood and teeth that had been knocked loose by the bedpost. "Please stop."

"Stop? Like you did? Huh, Aaron? You didn't stop, not when I begged, pleaded for you to stop. You _raped _me you son of a bitch!"

Shaking his head, he said, "I love you, Charlie. Why can't you see that? I've always loved you."

"You don't hurt the people you love like that, Aaron. You don't force yourself on them or threaten them. You don't love me. You don't know what love is. I saw someone die tonight, saw them die for someone else. That's love, you sick bastard."

When he told her again that he loved her, Charlie kicked him harder. "Do you have any idea what you did to me, Aaron? Do you? You took my life away from me."

"And you killed my son," he sneered bitterly. "I'd say that makes us even."

Charlie blanched. "What?"

"Oh, don't play innocent with me. You never wanted our baby. My father showed me the records from the abortion clinic. Your fall was just a cover up. You killed my son, Charlie."

Tears burned her eyes but she trampled them down. She wasn't going to cry in front of him ever again. She'd never had an abortion. The baby had died as a result of her accident. He could believe what he wanted and she told him as much.

"Right," he laughed. "As if I'd take your word over my father's. The word of a whore. I saw you yesterday, fucking that murderer while that other guy watched. Never took you for a kinky bitch, Charlie, but I've been wrong before."

"You're wrong about a lot of things, Aaron but as much as I'd love to stay here and enlighten you, there's somewhere I gotta be." Bending down, she fumbled through his pockets for his car keys then dangled them in front of his swollen face. "You don't mind if borrow these, do you?"

He was cursing her quite vividly as she slammed the suite's door and put on the "do not disturb" sign. It would take them a day or so, but eventually someone would discover him and let him out. Until then, he could sit there and if Charlie was really, really lucky he'd shit himself in the process. She was smiling at the visual image of the prissy little prick sitting in his own body waste when two suited men stepped off the elevator. They were part of Aaron's father's personal security, ex-military types who did as they were instructed and didn't ask any questions so long as they were paid.

"Shit," Charlie whispered as she spun back around and tried to walk as calmly as possible in the opposite direction. She was twenty feet from the door to the stairs when she heard one of them shout at her to stop. "Aw, fuck it," she mumbled before making a run for it. Four floors down, the taller of the two goons caught up to her, grabbing a hold of her hair and snatching her backwards. She stumbled but regained her balance in time to reach for the taser in her back pocket. The big man let go of her hair and flopped around like a fish when the darts struck his chest. Charlie didn't know where the second one was but she wasn't about to wait around to find out. She tore out of the stairwell into the hotel lobby at an all out run. Just as she had in the train station, she put her soccer years to good use, dodging people and baggage carts as she headed for the glass doors leading to the street. A guy on a speed bike pulled up to the traffic light in front of the hotel just as goon number two followed her out of the building. Without stopping to think twice, Charlie jumped over the low hedge row and climbed on the back of the bike.

"Who the hell are you?" the biker demanded.

"I'm the one who's gonna give you a hundred bucks to get me the hell outta here," she yelled. "Now go!"

"A hundred bucks? You got it, lady."

They sped off into the night, leaving Aaron and his henchmen far behind. Twenty minutes and three near collisions later, Charlie was satisfied that they hadn't been followed. She instructed the guy to pull off at a rough looking bar on the outskirts of town. Several Harleys, Big Dogs and choppers littered the parking lot as well as few muscle cars and pickups.

"You can let me off here," she said handing him the cash. "Thanks. You really saved my ass back there."

The man pocketed the money before asking, "Are you sure you'll be okay here? This place has a pretty ugly reputation."

Charlie smiled, "Trust me. I'll be fine. Thanks again."

She waved as he drove away then hurried towards the entrance of the bar. The cool night air wasn't so bad now, but rocketing through town jacketless on the back of a Ninja had left her with goose bumps. A couple shots of whiskey would cure that right up. Just as soon as she found a phone.

Charlie was sitting on a rickety wooden barstool two hours later, downing shot number five, when Dean sauntered into the bar. Bobby wasn't far behind and neither one was thrilled to see her in her present condition. The tank top she was wearing had been pulled up and tied in a knot behind her back, exposing a good expanse of tanned, toned tummy above the dangerously low slung jeans she wore. Her hair was a messy mass of honey brown locks, tangling around her face like she'd just rolled out of bed. She had the attention of nearly every man in the bar and a few of the women.

Slipping off the stool, Charlie stood on unsteady legs for a moment before righting herself and informing the two guys sitting on either side of her at the bar that she had to take a piss. They laughed and gave each other the thumbs up signal. Watching the byplay and understanding that both men thought she'd be going home with them tonight, Dean growled deep in his throat.

"Down boy," Bobby said, placing a hand on his shoulder in warning. "Let's just start by getting her out of here. Besides, I still have a bone or two to pick with you where my little girl is concerned."

"Well that sounds fun," Dean drawled sarcastically.

Charlie was a good ten feet away when she looked up from beneath her hair and saw Dean standing there with his hands in his hip pockets. She squealed his name before launching herself at him, jumping up into his arms and locking her legs around his waist. Her lips found his unerringly despite her intoxication, her tongue probing deeply.

"Umm, fuck me, but you taste so good, Dean," she whispered against his lips and ground herself against him. "Wanna feel you in me again."

Pushing at her shoulders, Dean managed to pry her away from him long enough to groan, "Not now, Charlie." He jerked his head to his left and she followed the movement, her eyes going wide when she saw Bobby standing there with murder in his own.

"Hi, Daddy," she said with a little wave.

The older hunter didn't say a word, just turned on one heel and marched out of the bar leaving the two of them to follow. When he reached the Impala, Dean put Charlie on her feet and let her lean against the car for support. He'd known there would be hell to pay when Bobby found out, he just hadn't counted on him finding out like this.

Knowing you were going to get hit and actually being hit just weren't the same and Bobby sure through one helluva mean right. Dean went down on one knee in the gravel, coughing so hard tears burned his eyes. When he made it back to his feet, he raised his hands in surrender.

"Please, Bobby," he said. "You can kick my ass all you want later. But right now, can we go? I don't like leaving Sam alone this long. He took this whole thing with Ruby pretty hard."

"Fine," the older man agreed. "But when we get back to the motel, you and me are going to have a long talk."

Dean nodded and turned to help Charlie into the car. "Hey, you doing okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she managed just before she threw up all over his shoes. "Okay, maybe not so good."

Dean shook his left boot then his right and said, "At least she didn't do it in the car."


	16. Chapter 16

The room was mostly dark, lit only by a small, dim lamp on the bedside table. Sam sat on a corner chair with his elbows propped up on his knees. The woman had been sleeping for hours now, at times fitfully as though she was having a nightmare. She probably was. Ruby had possessed her body for months and he knew from experience that she would have been awake and conscious for some of that time.

How could he have been so selfish? He'd put his own needs before that of an innocent person. He'd let her suffer so that he could satisfy is own thirst for revenge. God, Sam thought as he shoved his hands in his hair and hung his head, to say he'd gone off the reservation was an understatement. What the hell had he been thinking?

From the bed, the woman groaned. Sam looked up and found himself looking into her deep, chocolate brown eyes. They widened in recognition and she scooted back against the headboard with one hand outstretched to ward him off.

"No," she whispered, fear making her voice waver. "Don't come any closer."

Sam nodded. "Okay. I won't. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to make sure you're all right."

"I just spent the last half year possessed by a demon. I'm pretty fucking far from all right," she laughed, her anger replacing her fear.

"Fair enough," he agreed. "What's your name?"

Her laughter instantly died away. "Oh, so now you care who I am, Sam?"

"I deserved that," Sam said simply and honestly. "You're right. I should have helped you a long time ago. I should have done a lot of things. I'm sorry, really sorry. I know it's too little too late, but I want to help you now. If you'll let me."

She twisted her hands in her lap uncertainly for a moment as she waged some internal debate. Then squaring her shoulders, she said, "My name is Michelle, Michelle Vargas."

"Where are you from, Michelle?" he asked.

"Around," she answered with a shrug. When he cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, she sighed. "I was born in Miami but I've moved around a lot since then."

"Do you have family? A boyfriend, husband? Someone you need to call?"

Michelle cut her eyes at him and sneered, "Oh, so now you care if I have a husband? Now that your demon bitch is gone and you won't be raping my body any more?"

Recoiling as though he'd been slapped, Sam surged to his feet, knocking the chair over in his haste to get as far away from the truth as he could. His hand had just closed around the doorknob when he felt her own on his back.

"I shouldn't have said that," Michelle said quietly. "I'm sorry. You're trying to help me and I'm being a real bitch."

Sam didn't turn around. He couldn't. "You were just telling the truth, Michelle. In all that time, I never once thought about you. I deserve your anger."

"Yeah," she agreed. "You're right. But that doesn't excuse my behavior. Besides, I'm just as much to blame for what happened to me. I knew better."

He turned then, leaning back against the door. "What do you mean?"

Sighing, Michelle began pacing the small motel room. She'd never been so conflicted in her life. She was torn between what she should do and what she wanted to do. There was no amount of training or preparation that could have equipped her to deal with this situation. She knew she just kill him and get it over with. But she couldn't. It went well beyond your garden variety Stockholm Syndrome. Michelle didn't know where Ruby's feelings ended and hers began.

She turned around and looked up at him. "I'm a hunter, Sam."

"You're a what?" Sam asked, not sure he believed her.

Michelle sighed again. "I'm a hunter, Sam. Or at least I was until Ruby possessed me. Ordinarily, demon possession isn't something I worry overmuch about. I have a charm necklace my grandmother gave me for protection. Before that day, I'd never taken it off. But I was angry and upset enough to leave my house without it.

"I grew up in a large family, all hunters. My parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles. Everyone. I didn't have any brothers or sisters but I grew up with a ton of cousins. We were a tight knit crew. God, but we had some good times."

The sadness in her voice had Sam asking, "What happened?"

"Don't know for sure. The police never found any clues and neither did I but one night while I was up in Jacksonville on a hunt, a fire killed them all. Normally, we wouldn't all be in the house at the same time but it was two days before Christmas and Nona was getting on in years. They were still putting out the flames when I got there the next morning." She paused and laughed bitterly. "Do you want to know the best part? I was their primary suspect for a long time. They claimed my motive was greed, after all as the only surviving member of the Vargas family I inherited everything. My alibi was sound but the investigating officer didn't trust it. He kept digging and digging."

"I remember hearing about them, your family I mean. My dad knew one of your uncles, Craig I think."

Michelle nodded. "Yeah, they worked together from time to time. Your dad was a good man, Sam."

"Thanks," he said with a small smile. "What happened with the investigation? You said you were their suspect."

"I was but despite the fact that he doubted the truth of my alibi, the detective dropped the case against me. The evidence was all circumstantial and he didn't have enough to charge me."

Sam sat back down on the chair and said, "So that was the end of it?"

"Hardly," Michelle replied as she sat down on the floor and leaned back against the foot of the bed. "Eventually I told him the truth about where I was that night. God, he freaked."

"I'll bet," Sam smiled. "But if the case had been dropped, why tell him?"

Sadness clouded her dark eyes. "Because a little over a year after the fire, I married him."

"Wow. So you do have a husband."

"No, I don't. Not anymore," she told him. "He died less than two years after we were married. He was shot and killed on the job. I remember ranting at the injustice of it all. We were talking about starting a family. I was going to retire from hunting, Jake never stopped worrying that I wouldn't come home one night. I was so busy with my job that I never stopped to consider the dangers of his."

"I'm sorry, Michelle," he said softly. "So sorry."

They both knew there was more to his apology than just sympathy for her loss. "I know," she replied. "I'm afraid I don't know which way is up anymore. I'm a twenty-six year old widow, former hunter who was recently demon possessed and I can't stop thinking about the way your hands felt on my body. Tell me, how fucked up is that?"

* * *

Bobby pulled Charlie's boots off and poured her into bed, grateful that she'd finally run out of bawdy songs to sing. She was snoring by the time he pulled the coverlet over her body and turned out the light. She had some explaining to do when she woke up, starting with how she'd managed to let herself get kidnapped by a twenty-one year old kid. He'd like to kick her ass himself for that one. Dean had been fit to be tied when she'd disappeared. In all the years Bobby had known him, he'd never seen the boy so close to losing it like that over a woman. Over Sam, sure. But to see Dean frantic and desperate over Charlie had been downright frightening.

The relief he'd felt when she'd called and told him she was in Nashville had nearly sent him to his knees. He might not show it as well as he should, but Bobby loved his little girl more than life itself. He wanted more for her than the life he led but somehow she'd found her way to it anyway. Hell, judging by how well she'd done during the exorcism, he'd bet dollars to doughnuts she'd found her calling. He didn't like it none but he couldn't deny that he'd been damned proud of her.

He didn't bother knocking on Dean's door. He walked in and shut it quietly behind him. When Bobby turned around, the younger man was on his feet with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets.

"You gonna kick my ass now, Bobby?" he asked with false humor. Dean was hoping he'd say no but was ready to take whatever punishment his friend handed out.

Bobby slipped his arms out of his jacket and tossed it on one of the beds. Cracking his knuckles, he replied, "You're damned right I am." He fisted his hands in the lapels of Dean's jacket and lifted him off his feet before slamming him into the wall. "My little girl! You fucked my little girl, Dean! You made me a promise and you broke it. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't end you, boy!"

Giving the older hunter a lop-sided, shit eating grin, he said, "Would it help if I told you she came onto me?" A fist landed hard in his gut and Dean grunted. "Take that as a 'no' then." Two more blows followed, one to his mouth and the other to his kidney.

"If you were anyone else, I'd kill you," Bobby grit out between clenched teeth as he let go of Dean and watched him slide down the wall. Blood seeped from his split lip and he was clutching his middle, grimacing. "That's my little girl you've been messing with, Dean. The only good thing I've ever done in my life. If you lay another finger on her, so help me…Christ almighty, but I love that girl."

"So do I," Dean admitted quietly causing Bobby to stop his tirade.

"What did you just say?" he asked incredulously.

Grunting with the effort it took to get to his feet, Dean looked his friend in the eye and said, "I said 'so do I'. I love her, Bobby."

For a moment, they just stood there staring at one another. Then, Bobby reached for the flask inside his jacket. "Well, hell," he said before he took a long swig and passed it to Dean.


	17. Chapter 17

Dean drank from the flask Bobby offered, wondering just what had possessed him to blurt out his feelings like that. Going all Emo was more Sam's deal than his so why was he suddenly spilling his guts? He took another swig of the Irish whiskey the older hunter preferred. It was rich and smooth and so unlike Bobby that it somehow made perfect sense that he would drink something like this. Dean screwed the cap back on the silver flask before handing it back.

"You can kick my ass six ways to Sunday but that won't change how I feel about her, Bobby. I'm in uncharted territory here. Don't know which was is up anymore."

Bobby grunted in reply. "Sounds like love all right. Piss poor timing too if you ask me. There's nothing I want more than to beat the living hell outta you, Dean but I figure all that's gonna have to take back seat to getting clear of this mess with Lilith. I'm not saying I'm okay with this _thing _between you and Charlie, but for the time being I'm going to pretend I never heard those words come outta your mouth. And for the record, you hurt her? There won't be a body. Are we clear?"

The hard look he was giving Dean said it all. Bobby was deadly serious. Swallowing hard, the younger man nodded. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked up with a sheepish grin. "Mind if I say goodnight?"

"Don't push your luck, smartass," Bobby huffed. He sighed and dropped down into a mustard yellow vinyl chair before saying, "So, you want to tell me what the hell is really going on with my daughter?"

Confused, Dean scrunched his brow and said, "I thought you were going to pretend you didn't know about…y'know?"

The older hunter rolled his eyes dramatically. "I mean the real reason she took off the other morning, knucklehead."

"Oh," Dean replied, rocking back on his heels. What exactly could he say to that? He'd be lying if he said he didn't know what Bobby was talking about. But he'd be betraying Charlie's trust if he did anything else. Opting for the standard cop out, he answered, "Yeah, about that. It's kinda not my story to tell, Bobby. You wanna know, you should probably ask her."

"Well I wanna know and, since you obviously know the reason, I'm asking you, Dean," Bobby said angrily as he surged to his feet. "I may not have had a hand in raising her, but Charlie ain't no chicken shit. If she's on the run then there's a damned good reason and it ain't because some high society prick who's balls ain't even dropped tried to get him some. So I'm asking you again. What the hell is she running from?"

"Bobby, please," Dean begged. "Don't do this. You don't want to know, believe me. I wish I didn't. She's got good reason to be afraid of this guy. If it had been me, I'd have killed the bastard. Hell, I still might."

When his friend's face turned ghostly white, Dean realized he'd said too much. Bobby was a smart guy and it wouldn't take a brain surgeon to read between the lines. The floor seemed to disappear beneath his feet causing him to reach out for the back of the chair. His shoulders slumped and his face fell as tears filled his road weary eyes. In that instant, Dean felt about two inches tall.

"The bastard didn't just try to rape her, did he?" Bobby whispered hoarsely.

"No, he didn't," Charlie answered sadly from the doorway.

He moved to her on unsteady legs and gripped her shoulders, overcome with emotion. "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded softly. "For God's sake, Charlie. I'm your father. You should have trusted me."

"How could I?" she said in a small, broken voice. "You're my dad. How does a girl tell her dad she was raped? I was so stupid. I fucked up and I ended up getting myself hurt. And now…" Charlie broke off, covering her mouth as she choked back a sob. "Now, he's found me. He knows who you are, and Dean and Sam. He's not gonna let me go, Dad. We can't stay here."

Bobby studied her tear-stained face for a long moment. He could see there was more that she wasn't telling him but he figured that conversation could wait a little while longer. If she said they needed to go, then he guessed they needed to go. They would find another motel a few towns over to hole up then swing back around to Adams in the morning. The cave wasn't going anywhere.

To Dean he said, "You might as well go round up your brother. We'll figure out what to do about the woman once we're on the road."

"You okay, Bobby?" the younger man asked.

"Hell no," the other replied honestly. "But I'll live. You just go get Sam so we can clear outta here."

When he hesitated, Charlie snapped, "Just go, Dean. You've already said enough as it is."

His gut twisted. She was right. He had said too much. But hell, could she really blame him? He wanted nothing more than to wrap his hands around that bastard's throat and squeeze. Dean shot her an apologetic look then shrugged his shoulder as he pulled the door shut behind himself. She was pissed, he got that. It was probably a good idea to give her a few minutes to calm down.

Raising a fist, he knocked twice on the next door over. When the curtains moved, revealing a fraction of his brother's face, Dean gestured at him to open the door. A second later, Sam slipped outside.

"Yeah, Dean? What's up?" he asked, brushing the hair back from his face.

"Time to go," Dean replied. "Chick wake up yet?"

Sam cocked his head to the side. "Yeah, she's awake. Why are we leaving?"

"'Cause the fuck tard who ra - er, kidnapped Charlie is probably on his way back here to finish the job," he said, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. "Surprised she hasn't tried to gut you."

"Who? Charlie? Why would she want to gut me?"

"Sure you didn't cheat on your SAT's? I'm talking about the chick, genius. The woman your girlfriend possessed? Dark hair, brown eyes, about five - four? Ring any bells?"

"Oh, right," Sam said. "No, she's fine. A bit shaken up but taking it a lot better than any of the others I've dealt with in the past few months."

Dean shook his head. "Try not to remind me about your whole exorcising demons with your mind thing, okay? I'm still pissed at you, dude."

"Yeah, whatever. How soon are we leaving?"

"Now would be my guess. This fucker ain't playing around. He's got a major hard-on for Charlie and he knows all about us, well who we are at least. We need to get the hell outta Dodge, yesterday."

"Okay, just give me a minute," Sam agreed. He went back inside the motel room leaving his brother standing on the sidewalk to wait. He emerged a few minutes later with Ruby's former host in tow.

Adjusting the backpack that was tossed over his shoulder, Sam said, "Michelle, this is my brother, Dean. Dean, this is Michelle Vargas. She's a hunter."

"A hunter?" Dean repeated dumbly. He seemed to consider the possibility for a moment then quickly and quite visibly discarded it. Snorting, he said, "Yeah, sure. And I'm Miss America."

"If she's any relation to Lou Vargas," Bobby said as he and Charlie joined them, "then you'd better start polishing your tiara."

"You knew my brother?" Michelle asked.

"Of him anyway. He was something of a legend or so I hear."

She laughed and tugged her jacket closed against the October chill. "He was one of the best. Taught me everything I know."

"I'm sorry about what happened to your family," Bobby said sincerely.

Michelle nodded her gratitude and followed Sam to the Impala where she climbed into the back seat without invitation. After months of being a prisoner inside her own body, it felt good to be free to make her own decisions once again. And right now, she was going with Sam. Not because she was infatuated with the tall, handsome hunter and truth be told she was, very much so. But because she knew she could help them fight Lilith. They might not know it yet, but they needed her. She didn't know how she knew or why, but she wasn't going to leave. Not now. Not when so much was at stake.

When Dean ducked his head inside the car and asked, "Where the hell do you think you're going?" she crossed her arms over her chest and raised her chin.

"Wherever you're going, cowboy."

"The hell you are. Now get out of my car. You can ride with Bobby," he replied, hooking his thumb over his shoulder to point at the GTO.

"So not happening," she argued.

"Dude," Sam interrupted. "Just let her ride in the back. What's it hurt?"

Fed up with his antics and terrified that Aaron was going to leap out of the bushes at any moment, Charlie all but shouted, "Would you please just grow the fuck up, Dean? Jesus, just shut up and let her ride with you."

"Oh, so now you're siding with them? That's just perfect. You owe me a new pair of shoes, you know," he whined as he slid into the driver's seat and jabbed the key into the ignition.

Charlie crossed the narrow distance between the parking spaces and leaned down, bracing her forearms on the open window. "Tell you what, Dean," she said sweetly. "You can shut up and let Michelle ride with you or you can forget about riding me. Ever again. Your choice. Either way, there's plenty of room in Dad's car." Before he could blink, Charlie's lips were on his, kissing him hard and quick. She was gone a second later, climbing into the passenger seat of Bobby's car.

With a throaty cough, Dean cracked his neck and started the engine.

"Shut up," he mumbled when his brother started to snicker then with a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth added, "Bitch."

"Jerk," Sam replied on a strangled laugh. Cradling the back of his head in his locked fingers, he smiled in the dark. It was too priceless to be believed. Dean Winchester, bad ass demon hunter, was pussy whipped.


	18. Chapter 18

Charlie's head spun just enough to make her feel woozy as her father whipped out of the motel parking lot and headed for the highway. She groaned. Pressing a hand to her lips, she fought the rising tide of nausea left behind by her conversation with a bottle of Jack. What had seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea at the time was now coming back to haunt her. Her father shot her a concerned look and she smiled weakly. There wasn't any real danger of her getting sick again, but Charlie still felt like three day old crap.

She reached out and rolled down the window, enjoying the relief the cool night air provided. It wasn't much but it helped. When Charlie belched a moment later she reasoned that the danger had passed.

"You feeling okay over there, girl?" Bobby asked, squinting to make out her face in the darkness.

"Not quite but I will be," she said thickly. "Guess that's what I get for drinking whiskey on an empty stomach."

Her father raised an eyebrow. "Drinking? Chugging is more like. What were you thinking, Charlene?"

"I was thinking I wanted to get shit-faced and forget this whole sordid mess that is my life."

"Yeah, that much I got. But I was talking about Dean. You wanna tell me just what's going on between the two of you? 'Cause that was one helluva hello you gave that boy earlier."

Charlie blushed crimson, the color spreading all the way to her chest at the memory of the greeting she'd given the other hunter. What had she been thinking? She'd been talking to a couple of local musicians, laughing and joking just to kill the time until her father showed up, when she'd felt nature's call. Then when she'd seen Dean in her path, she hadn't thought at all, just jumped on him, suddenly desperate to feel and taste him again. Seeing her dad standing beside him had been a shocker.

Now, faced with the reality that she and Dean were 'out', Charlie realized she didn't know what was going on between them at all. There really hadn't been time to analyze things or label their relationship. She wasn't sure she was ready to. Before Aaron, she'd only had sex a handful of times, most of which were pleasant experiences while one had been monumentally disappointing. And therein lay the problem. Sex with Dean had been mind-blowing. It was something she could easily become addicted to. But if her father was wanting to know how she _felt _about him, well she just didn't have an answer for him just yet. That's not to say she didn't have feelings for Dean because in all honesty, she had some rather powerful ones. She just didn't know how to define them.

Finally, she sighed and said, "The truth? I really don't know, Dad. Half of the time, when he's being smug and arrogant, I want to choke the living hell out of him. The rest of the time, I'm torn somewhere between amusement and, well, you probably don't want to know what else." Bobby snorted and Charlie couldn't help but chuckle. "Right, the 'hello' you were talking about. I was rather descriptive, wasn't I?"

"And then some," her father agreed with a grunt.

"Sorry about that, Dad. It's just that this whole thing with him confuses me. I'll spare you the details, suffice it to say I just can't seem to get him out of my system. I wish I had a better answer for you, but I don't."

Bobby sighed heavily. It might not have occurred to his daughter yet but the girl was well on her way to falling in love with that boy. From where he was sitting, it didn't look like Charlie had much further to go until she was head over feet. Damn, this sure as hell complicated things.

"Guess that's just gonna have to be good enough for now then," he said gruffly. "I don't have to tell you to be careful."

She smiled and looked out at the road ahead of them. "No, you don't. But I appreciate it."

* * *

In the backseat of the Impala, Michelle turned sideways and swung her legs up onto the black vinyl seat before leaning back against the door. She crossed her arms over her chest, wondering for the tenth time since they'd left the motel if she'd chosen the wrong car. They'd been on the road for close to an hour with nothing but Molly Hatchet to break the silence. Not to malign her fellow Floridians but Southern Rock just wasn't her thing. Her request that the music be turned down was answered with a shit eating grin in the rearview mirror and a hand reaching out to turn it up. Michelle rolled her eyes. Oh yeah, she'd chosen the wrong car all right. When would she learn to ignore the demands of her hormones? She'd climbed into Dean's car because she'd wanted to be near Sam. And now here she was listening to questionable vintage rock that was making her ears bleed.

"That's it," she announced when a 38 Special cassette was popped into the player. She was leaning over the front seat and turning off the radio a second later. "You call that music?"

Swatting at her hand, Dean switched the music back on though not as loud. "Rule number one, driver chooses the music. Everyone else shuts his or _her _cake hole. Got it?"

She couldn't fault his logic there, especially when she had a similar rule in her own car. But seriously, could the man have worse taste in music? "Fine," Michelle answered grudgingly. "Where are we going?"

"Wherever Bobby's going," he replied. "That a problem?"

With a shake of her head, she said, "No, not really. So, I overheard you two talking back at the motel. Who's this guy Charlie's running from?"

Dean cleared his throat and focused on the road. He wasn't sure how to respond to that question. The last thing he wanted to do was say to much. He was relieved when Sam answered for him.

"He's her step-brother. A little while back the guy got into his head that she was his dream girl. Wouldn't take no for an answer. Not really sure how, but he tracked her down and managed to kidnap her last night."

"Why didn't she go to the police?" Michelle asked, leaning forward.

This time, Dean answered. "Wouldn't have done much good from what Charlie's said. Guy's dad is a DA in Houston."

"Lovely," she said.

Another few miles slipped by and the trio lapsed into silence once more. Ahead of them, Bobby's right turn signal lit up, flashing in the darkness. Dean followed as the GTO merged onto the Kentucky 85. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as his thoughts returned to Charlie and how close he'd come to losing her. Psycho's like that little shit who'd abducted her made him nervous. Evil he got. Plain old fucked up crazy, well, he had a hard time wrapping his mind around that one.

To take his mind off of the raging desire to turn his car around and head back to Tennessee so that he could track down the bastard and put the fear of God into him, Dean glanced over his shoulder at Michelle. She was still sprawled out across the backseat as though the car was a limousine and he was her chauffeur. He really didn't want to like her but her arrogance alone had him warming to her. Well, a little anyway.

"So Michelle," Dean said. "Your whole family were hunters?"

Smiling sadly, she answered, "Yeah. Five generations now."

"Five? Really? That's some family legacy. What happened to them?"

After close to six years, Michelle was surprised how much it still hurt. She told Dean what she'd told Sam but with a little more detail. She told him about going out of town alone on a hunt for the first time only to return to find the fire department putting out the flames of her family home. She told him about losing everyone she loved in one night without explanation or cause. There was no evidence of an accelerant but the police had still suspected foul play, had still suspected her.

"They said I had everything to gain," she confided. "What did they think I was gaining by killing everyone I loved? I lost everyone in that fire. No one survived, not even my nephew, Miguel. He was only six months old, for Christ's sake."

Sam, who'd been quiet up until then, whipped his head around and stared at her. "You didn't tell me that."

"What's it matter, Sam?" Michelle asked. "The police never determined what caused the fire, never discovered who killed my family. It was a long time ago. I've moved on the best that I can."

Looking out the window, Sam found himself wondering why Ruby had chosen Michelle to possess, wondering about the fire that had killed the Vargas family, and wondering not for the first time if God really work in mysterious ways.

* * *

More than a hundred miles away, Aaron sat in a wingback chair, holding a towel filled with ice to his jaw and watched his father pace back and forth. He hadn't been expecting him to show up but anyone who knew him knew Jeffrey Hart was a man of action. The only problem was Aaron was pretty sure his father wasn't his father any more. Soulless black eyes stared back from the familiar face, eyes that filled his heart with fear.

"I gave you specific instructions, Aaron. Simple but specific," his father said slowly as he walked towards the windows. "And yet she still managed to get away."

"She hit me," Aaron argued, wincing at the pain speaking caused.

"Because you underestimated her, Aaron," his father countered. "I have gone to great lengths to put her in your path and you've done nothing but fuck up from the get go." He crossed the room and squatted down between the younger man's feet. Pulling an automatic pistol from inside his suit jacket, he rubbed at his temple with the muzzle of the gun. "I honestly don't know how your father hasn't succumbed to the temptation and killed you. Bumbling and inept would be a fairly decent description of your efforts so far."

Aaron's eyes widened in fear. "Who are you? What are you?" he squeaked.

"Not very bright are you there, Aaron? Thought the eyes would have given it away. No, I'm not your dad. He's still in here, says 'hi' by the way. I'm just someone with a goal, a dream if you will." He patted the younger man's knee. "Name's Azmael."

"Wha…what do you w-want?"

Azmael stood and grinned. "What I want is to do what any good son should want. To finish his father's work. You could say I'm taking over the family business."


	19. Chapter 19

The motel in Central City was like virtually every other they'd ever stayed in over the years with a couple of beds, a tiny kitchenette and a relatively clean bathroom being the only real amenities. A small Formica table complete with two vinyl covered chairs sat nestled in one corner opposite the ugliest couch Sam had ever seen. He tossed his duffle and backpack on the bed farthest away from the door before sitting down and dropping his head into his hands.

Bobby's announcement that he was going to check on the girls barely registered. The only thing on Sam's mind was Michelle. Letting her come along had been his attempt at beginning to make some kind of amends for his treatment of her but every second of every mile had been torturous. Guilt and sorrow ate away at his insides. They bled together to form an all consuming ache that permeated his entire being, made him want to haul ass, get as far away as humanly possible from her and all the pain her presence was causing. Every time he looked at her, he still saw Ruby and every time she looked at him with those big, chocolate brown eyes he saw himself for the selfish bastard he now knew himself to be.

Sighing in self-disgust, he shoved his hair out of his face and flopped onto his back. Michelle's confession about still being able to feel his hands on her body had thrown him for a loop. She'd followed up that little tidbit with an adamant avowal that she had no desire to repeat the experience. She'd just wanted him to know she'd been affected by Ruby's possession in every way possible. Her determination to continue traveling with them had taken him by surprise. Sam had expected her to bolt the moment she was free of the demon, not climb into the back of Dean's car and start arguing with him like it was something she'd always done, like she belonged there.

Sam's gut twisted a little at the memory. She'd sat there in the center of the back seat with her arms crossed over her chest and her bottom lip stuck out in defiance, her eyes flashing in challenge. Right then, he hadn't seen Ruby, he'd seen Michelle and he'd felt desire for her for the first time. Self-disgust warred with self-hatred and he groaned as he ground the heels of his palms against his eye sockets.

"You all right over there, Sammy?" Dean asked. He tapped his brother's forearm with a beer bottle. "Here. You look like you need it."

Opening his eyes, Sam accepted the beer and pushed himself up. He didn't open the bottle, just held it loosely in his hands and picked at the label.

Dean regarded his little brother curiously. Something was off. He couldn't put a finger on it, but something was definitely up with Sammy. If he were anyone else, Dean might have asked offered to listen but that just wasn't his style. Instead, he opted for more comfortable territory.

"So," he began. "What's the deal with this cave?"

Relieved to have the job to think about instead of Michelle, Sam unscrewed the cap on his bottle and replied, "It's not far from the Red River back in Adams. Back in the early 1800's a spirit tormented the Bell family on their farm for a few years then took up residence in the cave. There's a number of different accounts but the general consensus is that the cave is a doorway allowing spirits to travel our world."

Tapping his lip with one finger, Dean said, "Devil's gate?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe. One things for sure though, something is going on down there. In the past century, there've been a limited number of documented hauntings, most of which occurred prior to John Bell's death around 1821. In the past month, that number has more than trippled."

"Demons or spirits?"

"I don't know. Maybe both. All I know is something is going on, something big. If Lilith is looking to open another seal, this might be where she's going to do it."

Dean propped his kicked his feet up onto his bed and leaned back against the pillows as he sipped his beer. "I really hate that bitch."

* * *

By lunchtime the next day, Charlie was certain her eyes were going to cross. She'd spent the better part of the morning pouring over her father's books and surfing the web for information on the sixty-six seals that held the devil at bay. Every account that she could find referenced only seven seals, the seals that preceded Armageddon. There wasn't a damned thing out there that spoke of these metaphoric locks on Satan's cell door. Her dad was right, the widely published versions of the Bible didn't tell the whole story. Looks like God didn't think the average Joe could handle the truth. She laughed out loud at the sudden image of the Almighty sitting on his throne shouting and shaking his fist like Jack Nicholson.

Slapping a hand over her mouth to stifle her giggles, Charlie glanced over to see if she'd woken her roommate. Michelle had crawled back into bed about an hour earlier. Until her fatigue had gotten the better of her, the hunter had been helping Charlie with her research. Now, she was sleeping as soundly as a baby. Must be the whole post demon possession thing.

Rob Zombie's 'Living Dead Girl' suddenly broke the silence and Charlie rubbed her neck as she reached for her cell phone. She flipped it open and pressed it to her ear, holding it in place with her shoulder as she scrolled through a list of Biblical end time prophecies.

"Yeah?" she said in lieu of a greeting.

"I'm fine, Chuck. Thanks for asking," Dean drawled on the other end.

The corners of her lips turned up in reluctant amusement. "Chuck?"

"It suits you," he replied smoothly. "We're done here for now. You girls hungry?"

She glanced over at Michelle a second time. She hadn't stirred at all. "Sure," Charlie said finally. "Whatever's convenient is fine with me."

"And Michelle?" he asked.

"She's taking a nap but she doesn't strike me as terribly picky, y'know?"

Dean snorted. "Yeah, I know. See you in an hour or so…Chuck."

"Ass," she grinned as she hung up and tossed her phone back onto the bed.

"Who was that?" Michelle asked sleepily. Stretching, she rolled over and sat up. "What time is it?"

"It was Dean. They're on their way back. And it's a little after twelve."

The hunter yawned. "How long did I sleep?"

"About an hour and a half I guess," Charlie replied. Closing the laptop, she looked at her companion and was surprised by how worn out she appeared. It wasn't the dark circles beneath the her eyes because those were barely visible. It was the weary look in those eyes and the slump of her shoulders. Michelle looked flat out exhausted. "How are you feeling?"

"Honestly?" she asked. "Like hammered shit. I'm hungry though. Wanna sneak out for a bite to eat?"

"Got it covered. The guys are bringing lunch back with them."

"What's on the menu?"

Charlie shrugged. "Didn't ask, but knowing Dean it will most likely include chili fries and cherry pie."

"Sounds delicious," Michelle replied, patting her tummy. "So, find anything yet?"

Fifty-eight minutes later a heavy rap sounded on their door. Charlie looked through the peephole before opening it to admit her father, Dean and Sam. They all looked a little the worse for the wear, dirt and blood smudges decorated their faces and clothing, but all looked to have come out of the cave relatively unscathed. Bobby dropped onto the couch that was every bit as ugly as the one in their room while Sam crawled onto the bed to begin looking over her research.

"Someone order White Castle?" Dean asked with a lopsided grin as he held up a couple of blue and white bags.

Charlie cocked her hip and planted one hand on it. "What you'd do? Mug Harold and Kumar on your way back?"

"Something like that but if you're not hungry, means there's more for me," he said raising the bags out of her reach.

"I didn't say that, jackass. Now gimme," she demanded, hopping up and trying to grab one of the bags.

Charlie was pulling out burger boxes when Michelle walked out of the bathroom with a hand on her stomach. "What the hell is that smell?" she asked miserably. "God, that shit stinks."

"You okay, Shelly? You look a little green," Dean stated with an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

She hated being called 'Shelly' but didn't bother correcting him. Right then Michelle had one objective and one objective only: to get away from the stench of greasy, onion-covered burgers.

"Yeah," she said as she slipped on her jacket. "I'm fine. I'm just going to get some air."

When the door closed behind her, three pairs of eyes looked at Charlie who just shook her head. "I don't know what's up with her. Guess it's just the after affects of having been possessed so long. I'm sure she'll be fine."

The subject was dropped and what they'd found at the cave became the focus of the conversation as they ate lunch. Charlie sat cross-legged on the floor with her make shift picnic, asking question after question. The idea of a devil's gate smack in the middle of Nowheresville, Tennessee was an intriguing one. Still, something just didn't add up.

"I don't get it," she said. "All evidence points to angry spirits rather than demonic activity. What if we're being pointed at the cave on purpose? You know, misdirection?" Charlie pushed up on her knees and hobbled over to the bed where she plucked Sam's laptop from his hands. She opened a bookmarked page and turned it around so that all three men could see the screen. "I was doing a search for end time prophecies when I found this. A local newspaper reported a series of events that happened on a single piece of land, all of which were curiously reminiscent of the Egyptian plagues but were eventually debunked by scientists from Vanderbilt University. The town's about a hundred and twenty miles southeast of Adams."

"Might be nothing," Bobby offered, scratching his head. "Then again, I ain't for leaving anything to chance."

"I agree with Bobby," Sam said. "What's the name of this town?"

Charlie took a deep breath and looked from Sam to Dean. "Winchester."


	20. Chapter 20

"You're kidding," Sam said with a huffy little laugh. When Charlie just shook her head, he said, "Seriously?"

"'Fraid so," she replied. "It's probably just coincidence but where you two are concerned, I'm kinda thinking not. If there's a devil's gate someplace, my money is on the farm down in Winchester."

"But we're not even sure what we're looking for is a devil's gate," Dean argued around the burger he was currently chewing.

"True, but if Lilith has been anywhere nearby, I'm thinking the farm is our best bet," Charlie countered. "Dad? What do you think?"

Bobby threw an arm over the back of the couch. He hadn't wanted to say anything but he had to agree with his daughter. The cave had been a waste of time. While there had been spirit activity (they had the cuts and bruises to prove it), there hadn't been anything to indicate that Lilith had any interest in the place. He seriously doubted the cave was any sort of gateway. This farm down in Winchester seemed a bit more like the demon's style. She wasn't without a sense of irony and opening a gate in a town bearing the boys' name would definitely appeal to her.

"I have to agree with Charlie on this one. Good work, girl," he said finally. "Let's wrap this up and head out. If we drive hard we should make it before dark."

Minutes later they were back on the road. As he drove, Dean couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going on. Really, Winchester freaking Tennessee? Come on, Lilith couldn't be that fucked up, could she? But even as he thought it, he knew the answer. The demon hated him. Opening a gate in a town that in all likelihood had been founded by one of his ancestors would be her way of saying 'fuck you'.

To make matters worse, this business with the seals was giving him the mother of all headaches. Getting a straight answer out of Cas was like pulling teeth. The angel talked in riddles and circles that would have Yoda asking "what the fuck?" Dean cracked his neck then looked over at his brother. Sam had been unusually quiet the past couple of days. Dean wasn't stupid, he knew the kid was brooding over Ruby but that wasn't all there was to it. Something else was off and he'd bet it had everything to do with the woman sleeping in the backseat.

In the passenger seat of her father's GTO, Charlie was also thinking about Michelle and Sam, just in a very different capacity. She hadn't missed the way the other woman had grabbed for the doorframe on their way out of the hotel nor had she missed the fact that Michelle had swiped up Dean's onion rings when he wasn't paying attention. Something was going on with her and Charlie was beginning to suspect it had much more to do with her recent possession than they'd originally thought.

Glancing out the car window, she watched as the scenery passed by in a now familiar collage of trees, barns, fences and endless miles of blacktop. She must have fallen asleep because the next thing she new, her father was shaking her awake. It was dark outside and the neon lights of the motel sign flickered overhead bathing the car's interior in pale blue. Yawning, she stretched and accepted the key to her room.

The routine was a familiar one now. Check in, set up defenses around the room, check her weapons. Her life in Houston seemed so far away now and were it not for Aaron, she wondered where she would be in this exact moment in time. It was Friday night. In all likelihood, she'd be eating with friends at some trendy little restaurant in Montrose before heading downtown. As she showered, Charlie allowed her mind to overrun with a barrage of 'what ifs'. She sighed heavily and rested her head against the tile wall when she realized that every scenario left her feeling empty because they all ended without Dean.

God, how had it come to this? She'd always been the tough chick, the girl who didn't cry when she broke her wrist after a fall from her horse during summer camp. What happened to that girl? Tears were suddenly her constant companions, always right there ready to show themselves at the drop of a hat. Now, here she stood beneath a shower long gone cold, crying because she refused admit to herself that she just might be the tiniest bit in love with Dean Winchester. She snorted in disgust when her fingers trembled as she turned the knob and shut off the shower.

"I'm so pathetic," Charlie mumbled then grabbed a towel from the rack and wrapped it around her body. She hadn't washed her hair but the loose knot on the top of her head hadn't fared well. Drooping down her neck, the honey brown strands were more wet than dry but she ignored them. Instead, she pulled the bathroom door open and crossed to her bed on wobbly legs. If she was falling for him, then why did it hurt so fucking much? Why was she suddenly so afraid?

"Took you long enough," his deep voice said from the shadows causing her to jump.

"Jesus Christ!" she shrieked, nearly dropping her towel. "What the hell are you doing in here, Dean?"

The sadness in her voice tugged at his heart and before he knew he'd even moved, Dean was sitting next to her, tipping her chin to look at him. Few women were beautiful when they cried, but Charlie was definitely one of them. Her hazel eyes turned a deep amber when they were swimming with tears and though he hated to see her hurting, Dean couldn't help but get lost in them. Without a word, he leaned forward and kissed her eyes closed, murmuring unintelligible words of comfort. Such tenderness was alien to him and yet it somehow felt natural at the same time.

His lips traveled down her cheeks, catching her tears and brushing them away. When his mouth found hers, Charlie's breath caught in her throat. It was beyond sweet. It was heartbreaking.

Pulling away, she asked, "Does my father know where you are?"

"As a matter of fact, yeah. He does," Dean answered truthfully. "Does that bother you?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. He was asking me about you, about us."

"And what did you tell him?"

"Not much. There wasn't much to say," she confessed softly. When Dean's expression hardened she knew he'd misunderstood. "No, Dean. I didn't mean…"

He jerked his arm from beneath her fingers and stood. He took two steps before he turned around and glared at her with his hands fisted at his sides. "I don't get you, Charlie. I mean, I've known chicks that blew hot and cold but you? You take the fucking cake. What the hell is your problem anyway?"

"You wanna know what my problem is, Dean?" she said, surging to her feet. "You! You're my problem. Every time I turn around you're right there. You're in my head. You're inside me, crawling beneath my skin like a parasite. No matter how hard I try, I can't push you out. You make me so angry. I don't know if I want to kill you or kiss you. I don't know who I am anymore because I don't think I can be me without you. I hate you! Do you hear me? I fucking hate you!"

She was crying again but she didn't care. She was barely aware of what she was saying. It had all come out in a rush, an overflowing of latent emotion that had been choking her ever since her father had asked her how she felt about the older Winchester. When she braved a look at his face, Charlie was horrified to find him staring down at her with a curious mixture of awe and amusement. Her eyes narrowed and she punched him square on the jaw.

Dean's head snapped back with the force of the blow. Grabbing his chin, he demanded, "What the hell was that for?"

"Because you're an ass and I hate you, that's what."

"Okay," he said with a broad grin. "If that's the way it's going to be…"

A second later, Charlie found herself being swept up into his strong arms then dropped unceremoniously on the bed where she bounced twice before his long, hard body was covering her own. She bit back a moan at the contact. Instead, she shoved at his shoulders.

"Get off me, Dean. Didn't you hear me? I hate you," she shouted. "I hate you."

"I can see that," he quipped with a lopsided grin as he settled himself against her and brushed the still wet hair from her eyes. "And for the record, I hate you too."

This time when his mouth covered hers, the gentleness was gone. This was passion in its rawest form. His tongue swept inside to teach hers exactly who was in charge, leaving no part of her mouth or soul untouched. The hands that had been pushing him away were suddenly pulling him closer as Charlie gave herself over to all the conflicted emotions Dean evoked. There was no protest when he tugged her towel open and palmed her breast, kneading the sensitive flesh. Of their own accord, her fingers slipped around to his chest and began divesting him of his clothing.

When his lips left her own to close over her nipple, Charlie's back arched and she cried out. The addiction took over then and she was frantically tearing at his clothes, desperate to feel his skin. Dean's hands found hers and pushed them back against the mattress.

"Easy there, Chuck," he teased. "No need to hurry."

"But my dad," she argued.

"Is not a problem," he finished. "Trust me."

Rolling off of her, Dean stood and toed off his boots before unbuttoning his jeans and letting them slide down his hips. When Charlie reached for his erection, he batted her hand away and dropped to his knees. He grabbed her ankles and pulled her towards the edge of the bed, draping her thighs over his shoulders. There were no words spoken, no warnings given before his mouth found her center and laved her flesh hungrily. Charlie's hands fisted in the sheets as she writhed beneath the torturous ministrations of his tongue and lips. When their eyes met, she knew she'd never see anything so erotic ever again as the heated look in Dean's gaze.

Her belly contracted and her hips began to buck against his mouth, fucking his face as he slipped two fingers inside her, pumping and pushing her closer and closer to orgasm. When Dean sucked harder, flicking his tongue against her clit Charlie came on a low, keening wail. Before she had time to come back down, he was there, holding her thighs open and thrusting inside her, sliding home once more. His mouth claimed hers once again and Charlie could taste herself on his lips. She moaned into his mouth, licking him clean and sucking his tongue deep into her own.

"Fuck, Chuck," Dean groaned and Charlie giggled softly. Their bodies were straining together, pushing each other harder and harder, both needing the completion they could only find together.

When Dean lifted her leg over his shoulder, Charlie gasped. "Right there. Jesus, please. Right fucking there!"

Dean thrust again, mimicking the angle and was rewarded by Charlie's nails digging into his ass as she began chanting his name. He could feel her body begin to quake and knew she was getting close. He thrust harder and faster, pulling her left leg up to join the right as he began to drive into her with the single minded goal of watching her come apart in his arms again.

"Please, please, please," Charlie begged as blinding, soul-rending pleasure began to steal over her body. "Oh God!" She was sobbing as she came, her fingers seeking and finding Dean's, curling around them as she rode out the tide of her climax. Seconds later, Dean's orgasm was ripped from his body unexpectedly causing him to see stars. Her name was on his lips, a soft shuddering sigh as he collapsed on top of her.

In the next room, Bobby closed his eyes and pretended he wasn't hearing what he was hearing. Sam sat at the table, red-faced, trying his best to do the same. The steady thump of the headboard against the wall didn't leave much to the imagination. He glanced at the couch where Michelle had curled up with a book and had to swallow a groan when she looked up and met his eyes. The unbridled lust in her eyes was almost enough to send him running from the room. The sounds coming from next door didn't help.

Bobby cleared his throat and in an effort to break the uncomfortable silence that had descended over the room, asked, "Anyone up for a game of poker?"

Michelle's lips twitched just a bit when she replied, "That depends. We playing hold 'em or stud?"

Shaking his head, Bobby chuckled. "I'm sorry I asked,"


	21. Chapter 21

"Michelle? You okay?" Sam asked as he rapped his knuckles against the bathroom door. She'd excused herself into the fifth hand of Texas Hold 'Em and hadn't yet come out. Bobby had finished his cigar and they'd polished off a six pack during the time she'd been away from the table. Sam knew something had to be wrong, no one stayed in the bathroom that long unless they weren't feeling well. Or unless they were upset. He sincerely hoped she was neither.

"I'm fine, Sam," he heard her reply weakly from behind the closed door.

"No, you're not," he argued and reached for the doorknob. "Open the door. I want to help you."

A hard, bitter laugh stilled his hand. "Believe me, Sam. You've already done more than enough. Please just go away."

Reluctantly, Sam's fingers slipped from the doorknob and he returned to the small table and picked up his cards. Bobby glanced up at him curiously but he just shook his head and tossed a couple of nickels in the pot.

"Call," he said.

Inside the small bathroom, Michelle was sitting on the toilet lid with her arms wrapped around her middle. She didn't want to believe it. Surely God couldn't be that cruel. Could he? How could he have let this happen? She'd always been a good Catholic, had gone to Mass on Sunday, confession on Tuesdays. Why had he let that demon take over her body? What good could have come from her possession?

Hot tears slipped down her cheeks and splashed onto her bare arms as she rocked back and forth. She knew she should get up and rinse the bile from her mouth but right then she just didn't have the strength. It was all coming at her so fast. Logically, Michelle knew her body was just playing catch up. Ruby's possession had kept all the symptoms at bay and now that she was free of the demon, it was all rushing through her system. The tiredness, the dizziness, the nausea. It was as plain as the nose on her face. She didn't need a store bought test to tell her what her heart told her was true. She was going to have a baby, Sam's baby.

"Oh God," she prayed brokenly. "Please don't do this to me. Please, I'm begging you."

"What are you so afraid of, Michelle?" Castiel asked softly as he knelt between her feet.

Unsurprised to see him kneeling there, she closed eyes in misery and she answered, "What if it's one of _them_? What if my baby is a demon?"

The angel took one of her hands and squeezed it in reassurance. "Your child is as human as you are. The demon, Ruby, did not have control over your body, only your mind. But do not be deceived. Your child is important. He is very, very special."

"He?" she asked, her eyes wide and suddenly hopeful.

Castiel nodded. "There is nothing more important to either of them than family. The conception of your son, of his son, marks a turning point. While Sam's destiny remains unclear, there is now hope where there once was none."

The hand that wasn't being held by the angel pressed against her belly. After Jake died, Michelle had given up hope for ever having a family again. She didn't believe she would ever love again and while she didn't know what it was she felt for Sam, she knew she'd always be grateful for this gift he'd unknowingly given her. Castiel's assurance that her baby wasn't a demon was enough to turn her fear into joy.

"Thank…" her words trailed off when she noticed he'd gone. "You," she finished quietly. With a renewed sense of purpose, Michelle wiped away her tears and stood up. After splashing cold water on her face, she blotted her skin dry on a towel and opened the bathroom door.

Sam's head swung around when he heard the door hinges creak. "You okay?" he asked again, his concern evident in his tone.

"No, not really," she admitted with a sad shake of her head. "But I think I will be. Do you think we could talk for a bit? Maybe take a walk or something?"

Surprised by her invitation, Sam didn't respond right away. Bobby kicked him under the table and nodded his head meaningfully. "Oh, right," Sam said. "Sure, Michelle. Is…now?"

She smiled a little at his stuttered response. The fact that she made him uncomfortable wasn't lost on Michelle. She even understood it. That didn't mean she had forgiven him for what he'd done but she was going to try. Their son was going to change a lot of things, the least she could do was make an effort towards mending this rift between them. Her growing attraction to him wasn't something she could ignore either.

It wasn't terribly late, a little after ten p.m. but they both tucked guns into the backs of their jeans beneath their jackets before the left the motel room. They walked in silence heading in the general direction of the Huddle House Restaurant a few blocks away. When Michelle finally spoke her heart was in her throat.

"I know you've been avoiding me, Sam. And I can't say that I blame you. It must have hurt, losing her that way."

Sam sighed. He didn't want to have this conversation with anyone but he owed Michelle an explanation. "Honestly, I don't even know anymore. I didn't love her, but I did care about her. She was there for me when Dean…when he was gone. She filled a hole in me for awhile, I guess. I had no idea she felt that way about me, didn't know demons could feel anything in the first place. It's just...Why did she do it? I just can't understand it, any of it."

"Would you die for Dean, if you knew your death could save him?"

"In a heartbeat," he answered vehemently. "But that's just it. Dean did die for me. And now Ruby. Who else has to die because of me?"

Michelle caught his hand and held it tightly in her own. "They didn't die _because _of you, they died _for _you - because they loved you. Do you really think so little of yourself? That you're not worthy of their love, of their sacrifice?"

"Everyone I've ever loved has died because of me," Sam said as he tugged his hand from hers. "You don't know what that's like."

"You're right. I don't. But I do know what it's like to lose everyone you love. If you'd stop wallowing in your own self-pity for two seconds you'd see that you're not the only one who's hurting. Your brother, Charlie, Bobby, me. We're all in this together and we're all of us affected by it. So, you'd better pony up and snap out of this funk you've gotten yourself into Sam. We're depending on you. We need you."

"You're forgetting one very important detail, Michelle. I've got demon blood in me. I'm a freak that even the angels are afraid of. How would you feel if it were you?"

"If you weren't so God awful tall, I'd kick your ass into next week, Sam Winchester. You want to talk about important details? Well here's one for you. I'm pregnant." When he paled visibly, she said, "That's right. Pregnant - with your baby, a baby I don't have any memory of conceiving because I was possessed by a demon when the deed was done. So if you want to stand there and have a pity party, you might as well throw that log onto the fire with the rest of them. You're going to be a daddy, Sam. You might want to think about that before you go throwing in the towel."

Michelle turned then and began walking back to the motel. She cursed herself for a fool. She hadn't intended to tell him about the baby. She'd just wanted to talk to him and he'd had to go and ruin it by being such a selfish, self-centered prick. Funny, the Sam she got to know through Ruby's eyes had been anything but. The bitter, war weary man who now occupied his body was starting to grate on her nerves.

Bobby looked up from the game of Solitaire he was dealing when she slammed into the room a few minutes later. He didn't say a word. He'd learned long ago, under fire, that when women were pissed off enough to start slamming doors it was best to give them a wide berth. When Sam followed suit ten minutes after, Bobby's eyes widened in surprise.

The younger Winchester angrily stalked into the room and jerked Michelle to her feet, curling an arm around her waist and hoisting her up against him. "Is it true?" he asked in wonder. When she nodded, Sam pressed his mouth to hers in a quick, happy kiss. "Thank you," he whispered against her lips.

"What for?" she asked, pulling back and looking at him in confusion.

Smiling broadly, Sam answered, "For, I don't know, everything?"

"Do I even want to know what's going on with you two?" Bobby asked from the table without glancing up.

Michelle and Sam shared a look. Without saying a word, they both seemed to understand that now wasn't the time to be announcing the impending arrival of the next Winchester.

"No," Sam said, fighting a smile. "Just finally got a few things straight."

* * *

When he'd caught his breath, Dean pushed himself up to rest on one elbow and smiled down into Charlie's eyes. "Hey," he said softly.

She blushed and turned her head away, biting her bottom lip as she tried not to smile back. A curious warmth spread through her body, leaving her feeling shy and more than a little out of her depth. Is this what love felt like? Her heart hammered against her chest and she felt as though she'd never be able to breathe normally again.

With two fingers beneath her chin, Dean turned her face back to him. "You okay?" She answered with a quick, jerky nod of her head. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Still hate me?"

The way he said the words told her he'd understood what she'd been trying to say even when she hadn't fully understood herself. The brightness of his smile and the way his heartbeat echoed her own gave her the courage to reach up and pull his mouth down to hers.

"Always," Charlie promised against his lips.

"Good," Dean smiled. "Me too."


	22. Chapter 22

He'd once heard someone say that it was better to be on the right hand of the devil than in his path. Those were words Aaron now knew to be true. Over the past few days he'd witnessed evil, real evil, first hand. He'd seen things that he knew would give him nightmares the rest of his life - however long that might be. Azmael terrified him in every sense of the word. He was cold, calculating and dogmatic in his quest for the perfect soldier to finish his father's war. According to Azmael, the difference between himself and his father was that Azazel lacked vision, his dream was too narrow.

The perfect breeders, that's what the demon had called Aaron and Charlie. He'd said his father hadn't seen the bigger picture, hadn't had any idea what his 'kids' could accomplish. They just needed the proper guidance. When Aaron asked what he meant, Azmael had just laughed.

"Before she escaped," Aaron said, hazarding a glance at the demon sitting to his left in the back of the limousine. "I confronted Charlie about the abortion. She…she never had one, did she? It really was an accident."

Azmael brushed imaginary lint from the sleeve of his suit before answering. "Oh, her fall was no accident. I simply have no use for a female child."

"You killed our baby?" Aaron whispered, aghast. "Why?"

The demon sighed in exasperation. "Again, I applaud your father's self control. The baby was a girl and while I'm fairly certain she would have been a bundle of joy, I really need you two to produce a son for this intricate plan of mine to work."

"I don't want to be a part of your plan. I just want Charlie to love me the way I love her. I want us to be together the way we were meant to be."

"And you will," Azmael assured him, patting his thigh gently. "Just as soon as you uphold your end of the deal. Naturally, I expect a good deal more finesse than you displayed the last time. Honestly Aaron, rape? Your father should have taught you better."

The younger man winced at the reminder of how he'd forced himself on the woman he loved. Swallowing past his guilt, he asked, "How are we going to find her? She doesn't want anything to do with me and she's with _them_."

"It's simple. They're going to lead us right to her. John's boys are nothing if not predictable."

Aaron swallowed hard. There was something very unsettling about the demon's smile, like the cat that ate the canary and Aaron was suddenly hoping they never found Charlie. Whatever Azmael had planned, it couldn't be good.

* * *

Surrounded by mountains, the town of Winchester was typical of southern small towns. It was built on a small grid of streets surrounding the town square. Old Victorian houses dominated the city's architecture mixed with a smattering of antebellum homes and buildings. It was charming, quiet, the kind of place that existed only in Norman Rockwell's paintings.

Over breakfast at Mary Jean's Diner, Dean charmed the lovely Mary Jean out of the latest gossip. He teased her until she blushed and swatted his arm. She was an older woman with a grandmotherly appeal and by the end of the conversation, was bringing him a hearty slice of her homemade apple pie. It had won the blue ribbon at the Franklin County Fair three years in a row.

Charlie couldn't help but grin at Dean's boyish antics, hiding her smile behind her coffee cup. Things had changed between them last night. She flushed at the memory of all the ways they'd made love, the way she'd begged him for release. Dean caught her eyes across the table and reading the look in them, shot her a grin full of sinful promise.

Beside him, Sam was having trouble keeping his temper in check. Michelle had insisted on going with them to the farm, an idea he naturally opposed given her condition. Telling her as much hadn't been the smartest thing he'd ever done. His eye was still smarting from the left cross she'd thrown. The next time he voiced his opinion, Sam would be sure to do so when he was standing up so that he could put their twelve-inch height difference to good use.

He was bouncing his knee up and down in agitation but stopped with the first touch of her hand on his thigh.

"Cool it," Michelle hissed where only he could hear. "You're acting like a child."

Sam smiled tightly as he replied, "Oh really? And you're not? We have no idea what's up there. I don't want you in harm's way, Michelle."

"Are we going to have this argument again? Sam, I told you. I can take care of myself. I'll be fine," she argued, fighting to keep her voice a whisper.

"And what about _it_?" he said meaningfully as he glanced down at her lower abdomen.

Michelle's eyes narrowed. "_He _will be just fine. I know what I'm doing."

Sam's brain locked onto the word 'he' and refused to move forward. "He?" he repeated dumbly. When she nodded, he felt his eyes well. "How…how do you…are you sure?"

Taking his hand in her own, she held it tightly. "A little _bird _told me," she said with a wink and a smile.

His own smile fell. There was no doubt in Sam's mind who the little bird was. He gave his brother a shove, indicating he should move. Dean glared at him. "What the hell, dude?"

Sam ignored him and taking hold of Michelle's wrist tugged her out of the booth behind him. "Excuse us for a moment," he said with a tight, forced smile. He led her to the back of the restaurant to the narrow hallway where the restrooms were located. There they were afforded a small measure of privacy.

"If by bird, you meant Castiel, I'm afraid to even ask," Sam growled.

Michelle shook her arm loose from his grasp and punched his chest. "If you ever manhandle me that way again Samuel Winchester, I swear to God you will regret it. But to answer the question you're too chicken shit to ask, yes, Castiel told me our baby is a boy - a _human _boy."

"Let me get this straight," he said as he shifted his weight to his right leg. "The same angel who told my brother that they would kill me if I didn't stop using my powers, came to you and told you that, not only is our baby a boy, but they're okay with this development? Did I miss something?"

"No, Sam, you did not," Castiel answered for her causing Sam to jump. "As I have told Michelle, your destiny is still uncertain. There are choices you have yet to make but we know your capacity for love and therein lies our faith. Your son gives us hope."

"Are you still planning on killing me?" Sam asked sincerely concerned for his own survival.

The angel cocked his head and regarded Sam seriously. "I hope it will not come to that."

A crash sounded in the restaurant's kitchen drawing both Sam and Michelle's attention. When they looked back, Castiel had gone. For a long moment, neither spoke. Then, Michelle broke the tension by teasing Sam.

"Guess that definitely means you'll no longer be using the force, young Skywalker," she said with a mischievous grin.

He snorted in reply as he took her hand this time. They returned to the table to find three pairs of curious eyes staring at them. Dean stood and let them slide back into the booth. As his brother stepped past him, Dean caught his arm and asked in a whisper, "Dude, did I just see you talking to Cas back there?"

"Tell you later," Sam replied then sat back down.

"We might as well tell them now, Sam," Michelle said, glancing around the small table. "They're going to wonder when I don't go with you to the farm anyway."

"You changed your mind?" he asked in surprise. When she nodded, he leaned over and impulsively kissed her forehead. "Thank you."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "So, either one of you gonna tell us what's up?"

When Sam looked down at Michelle questioningly, she nudged his arm, urging him to answer. He glanced at Bobby then Charlie before meeting his brother's eyes.

"Michelle's pregnant," he said simply.

"Come again?" Dean asked, dumbfounded.

* * *

Just outside Winchester, at the base of the mountain on Buddy Eldridge's farm, a teenage girl drew a long, viciously curved knife along Mrs. Eldridge's jaw, slicing into her throat so deep she nearly decapitated the poor woman. Sobbing, the farmer watched hopelessly as his wife's life's blood flowed freely from her body. The girl moved left to where his two sons sat, cowering away from the maniacal gleam in her blue eyes.

"Please," he begged. "Don't do this, please. I'm begging you. Leave my children alone."

"You know what I want, Buddy. Give it to me and I'll go. I promise, cross my heart," she brushed three fingers over her chest and held them up. "Scouts honor. All you have to do is give me the key."

Buddy raised pain-filled eyes to stare into hers. "I don't have it," he confessed. "But I know where it is. I'll tell you everything. Just let my children go."

"Yes, you will tell me what I want to know, Buddy." Her eyes turned a sickly shade of white before she added, "But first, I want to play."


	23. Chapter 23

"Something's wrong," Sam announced as he and Dean trudged up the Eldridge's heavily mulched driveway. "It's too quiet."

"Yeah, I think you're right," his brother agreed, grateful that Charlie had elected to stay behind with Michelle.

While Sam opened the barrel of the sawed-off and inserted two fresh cartridges Dean pulled out his pistol and chambered a round. As silently as they could manage, the pair climbed the front steps of the house and approached the door. From inside the house, they could hear someone laughing, a girl from the sound of it. A man's voice followed. It was muffled and they were unable to make out what he'd said.

Dean reached for the doorknob but pulled his fingers back when they met with a powdery substance. He rubbed his fingertips together and raised them to his nose. Grimacing, he mouthed, "sulfur". Sam reached down into his boot, pulled out Ruby's knife and tossed it to his brother before slowly opening the front door.

The well oiled hinges didn't make a sound as the heavy, oak door swung open. Three steps inside the house, they could hear the man more clearly, the anguished sound of his voice coming from the rear of the house. He was pleading with someone, begging them to kill him. Again, they heard shrill girlish laughter. Hatred burned in Dean's belly. He'd know that laugh anywhere, it didn't matter what body it came from, the effect was the same.

As he took a step closer to the kitchen, a floorboard creaked beneath his booted foot. The laughter stopped immediately.

"Come out, come out wherever you are," the girl taunted in a sing-song voice. "I know you're here, Dean. I never forget a soul."

When the two brothers stepped into the kitchen they were unprepared for the carnage that greeted them. The sheer amount of blood and gore nearly sent Sam running for the sink but he held fast to the contents of his stomach, focusing instead on his hatred of Lilith. If Dean was likewise affected, he didn't show it except for the stiffening of his shoulders and the tightening of his jaw.

"You bitch," the elder Winchester hissed as his eyes fell on the remains of the farmer's children. He recalled what Henricksen's spirit had told him in Bobby's kitchen about Lilith wanting to play. He twisted the knife's hilt in his palm wanting nothing more than to bury its blade in her heart.

"Now that's no way to talk to a lady, Dean," she chided him then looked over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. "Sam. Wish I could say it was good to see you again."

Lilith didn't move a muscle but Sam knew what was coming. Moving faster than he believed possible, he shoved Dean behind him just as a the demon shot a beam of white light at him, just as she'd done the night Dean had died. And just like that night, nothing happened.

"What are you?!" Lilith screamed in outrage. "Why won't you just die!"

The temptation to just take her out right then and there was overwhelming. Sam knew he could kill her, easily. In a matter of seconds this whole fight would be over. Satan would remain in the Pit and the Apocalypse would have to wait for another day. All he had to do was concentrate. His fingers twitched, itching to reach out and pull her from that girl's body so that he could send her to Hell where she belonged. But he wouldn't do it. Not now when he had so much to live for.

"I think you already know the answer to both those questions, Lilith," Sam replied even though he didn't know himself.

Nearly foaming with impotent rage, she hissed, "This isn't over. Not by a long shot." She gave them a sarcastic little wave before saying, "See you around, boys."

Lilith left her host's body in a cloud of black smoke, leaving the girl's lifeless body behind. It dropped to the floor with a sickening thud where it joined the demon's three other victims.

In the corner of the room, Buddy Eldridge trembled. His mind was in tatters after watching his family be ripped apart before his eyes. He didn't understand what had happened, why the demon had wanted the key. It was just a myth after all. An old family legend, nothing more. Things like demons and devils and gateways to Hell weren't supposed to exist. They couldn't exist.

Oh, Annie. His precious Annie. She was gone. Their boys were gone. That monster had taken them away and then danced in their blood. Oh, God in Heaven, what was happening? Why was it happening? Buddy held his head in his hands as he sobbed.

"Mr. Eldridge?" a voice asked softly, breaking into his thoughts and causing him to look up with red, swollen eyes.

"She killed them," he whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming and crying. "She killed my boys and my Annie."

"I'm so sorry," Sam said. "Did she say anything at all? Do you know what it was she wanted?"

"Don't make no sense. People can't do things like that. They just can't. It don't make no sense at all."

"Sam," Dean said from the doorway. "You're wasting your time. Lilith worked him over pretty damn good. He's not going to tell you anything."

"I have to try, Dean." To the farmer, he said, "No, Mr. Eldridge it doesn't make any sense. But we need to know what she wanted. Can you remember anything she said? Anything at all?"

Buddy's eyes were glassy but his gaze sharpened just a bit as he looked at Sam. "She wanted the key. Told her I don't have it. But she killed them anyway. Why did she do that? Ain't nothing but a piece of old Indian junk. Ain't nothing special. Just kept rambling on about devils and gates and needing the key."

While Sam was gently prodding the grieving farmer for information, Dean wandered around the house, trying to piece together what this key was and why it was so important to Lilith. He dug through the contents of a roll top desk in the study, pulled books from the shelves and flipped through their pages. He found several photo albums in the living room but didn't find anything to indicate this mysterious key. Dean was heading back to the kitchen to collect Sam and suggest they leave when a framed photograph on the wall caught his eye. It was old, probably a hundred years or so, the black and white image faded now to gray and yellow. Three men stood in front of an old church in the picture. The man in the center was Native American and was dressed in full Cherokee regalia. To his right, a man dressed in overalls stood with his arm over the chief's shoulders. He wore an intriguing necklace around his neck.

Plucking the photo from the wall, Dean carried it into the kitchen and showed it to his brother. "Think this might be it," he said, pointing to the amulet around the man's neck.

Sam took the frame and lowered it where Buddy could see it. "Is this the key, Mr. Eldridge?"

"God damned piece of Indian junk," the farmer muttered. "She killed my family. She killed them! Oh, God. Annie…"

"Yeah, I think that's it, Sam. Let's get outta here. We'll call 9-1-1 once we're on the road," Dean said, turning away from the scene in the kitchen, unable to stomach it any longer.

"Good idea," Sam agreed.

When they reached the car and Dean had started her up, he turned to his brother as he shifted into gear and said, "Thank you, Sam."

Caught off guard, the younger Winchester asked, "Why are you thanking me, Dean?"

"I know you could have killed her back there, but you didn't."

"Yeah, well, I wanted to."

"But you didn't. That's what matters. That bitch is going to get what's coming to, don't you worry."

Sam laughed bitterly. "Believe me, I'm not worried."

Dean harrumphed as he pulled out of the Eldridge's driveway and pulled out onto the rural highway that led back to town. After Sam called emergency services, the two hunters didn't speak again until the Impala pulled into the motel parking lot.

"So," Dean began after he killed the engine. "Why didn't you? Kill Lilith, I mean."

Sam smiled. "There were a lot of reasons, Dean."

"Then give me one."

"Family," he answered and clapped his brother on the shoulder before opening the passenger door and stepping out. "Our family."

"Family," Dean repeated with a grin as Sam unlocked the door to their room. Yeah, he guessed family was a pretty damned good reason, especially when their family was going to get a little bigger in a few months' time. "Sammy's gonna be a dad," he said to himself. "Shit. I'm gonna be an uncle."

Inside their room, Sam sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and let all the emotion he'd held in check at the Eldridge farm wash over him. He'd seen a lot of death in his years as hunter but he'd never seen kids carved up like that. They'd just been little boys, the oldest couldn't have been more than eight or nine. Bile rose in his throat sending him rushing for the bathroom. Sam barely made it to the toilet in time. His stomach heaved, emptying itself of its contents.

From the doorway, he heard Dean say, "Oh, damn it, Sammy," seconds before he felt a cool, damp washcloth pressed down over the back of his neck. "You okay?"

He managed to shake his head just a bit. "No," he choked out. "They were kids, Dean. Just kids."

"I know," Dean sighed. "I know, dude." Sliding down the bathroom wall, he sat next to his brother and stretched his legs out in front of him as far as they would go. "Lilith's one fucked up bitch."

"I could have killed her. I could have stopped her from killing anyone else, could have stopped her from destroying anyone else's family but I just let her go." There was a tremor in his voice as he spoke, letting Dean know just how badly he'd been affected by the demon's cruelty.

"You did the right thing, Sam. We're gonna catch her and we're gonna kill her. Together. I'm not going to lose you, bro. Not to them, not to anyone. You're all I got. Besides, you've got a kid to raise and I want you around to see all the stuff I'm going to teach him."

Sam threw his head back and laughed. "If you think I'm letting you and your mullet rock or your Busty Asian Beauties within ten feet of my son, you've lost your mind, Dean."

"Aw, come on, Sammy. I'll be the coolest uncle ever."

"No, Dean. Not a chance."

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

They were quiet again for several minutes until Sam said, "What if I'm not a good father? As much as we both loved Dad, he wasn't exactly the best example when it came to parenting."

"I dunno, man. Guess you just do the best you can and go from there."

Sam sighed and dropped his head back against the wall. "Yeah. I guess."

"First things first," Dean announced, slapping his little brother's leg before shoving himself to his feet. "We've got a key to find and the end of the world to thwart."

"Did you just say 'thwart'?" Sam asked, cocking an eyebrow and accepting a hand up from the floor.

"Shut up."


	24. Chapter 24

A small warning to my readers: There is very mild FemSlash in this chapter. Nothing graphic to be worried about and nothing that's going to be repeated or become a theme in this fic. You'll understand when you get to it. Hope you have a bit of a giggle - I certainly did.

Cheers!

* * *

From her perch on the ratty couch in the corner, Charlie waited for Dean to finish ranting. He'd been at it for more than ten minutes now, enumerating all the reasons why she and Michelle should not have left the safety of the room while he and Sam had gone out to the Eldridge's farm. Never mind the fact that they'd uncovered a local legend about a Cherokee family who had settled in the area almost two centuries earlier, a family who was widely rumored to have had ties to the spirit realm. Dean's only focus was on the fact that the two women had disobeyed his mandate that they not go anywhere. Period.

When he finally ran out of breath and synonyms for stupidity, Charlie spoke up. Rising from the couch, she planted her feet and began ticking off a few talking points of her own.

"First of all, Dean, who died and made you Patton? Secondly, you're not my father. Third, call me an idiot one more time and we're going to find out just how far I can shove my foot up your ass. Got it?"

His answer was to close the distance between them and lean over her menacingly. Though her knees were shaking by the coldness in his expression, Charlie refused to let it show. Instead, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin in defiance.

"When it comes to keeping the two of you safe," he bit out between clenched teeth, "you will do as I tell you. Your father would agree with me on that. So, if you can't deal with taking orders from me, then that's your problem. No one's keeping you here."

"So that's it then, huh? Your way or the highway?"

"You're damn right it is."

For a long moment, Charlie didn't say a word, just stood there with her hands on her hips returning Dean's glare. Then much to his surprise, she shrugged and dropped back down on the couch.

"Fine," she sighed while pretending to inspect her nails. "Until Dad's finished in Missouri, you're the boss."

"Glad you finally realized it," Dean quipped with a smug grin. "Now, about this legend. You said the family was Cherokee?"

"Yeah," she answered. "According to local folk lore, the family dropped off the Trail of Tears in mid-1830's and settled several miles outside of town. Now, ordinarily they wouldn't have been welcomed but according to the legend, their arrival coincided with a freak snowstorm, or rather the end of said storm. The residents of Winchester saw this as a sign, an omen and decided to leave the family alone. Several years of prosperity followed, solidifying the town's beliefs. Many people believed that the patriarch of the family had special gifts, psychic gifts and that these abilities were passed on to a male child in each generation. There are several historical accounts of people claiming to have witnessed members of the family communicating with the dead. Some believed that they had the ability to walk in both worlds, the world of the living and the world of the dead."

Sam leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees as he said, "So we're talking what? Some kind of devil's gate?"

"Something like that. And like all gates, this one required a key," Michelle answered.

"A key? Wasn't Lilith looking for a key at the Eldridge place?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," his brother replied. "But if we're talking about an actual key, I seriously doubt the photo's gonna be much help."

"What photo?" the two women asked in unison.

Dean crossed the room to the adjoining door and after disappearing for a moment, reemerged holding a framed black and white photograph. He passed it to Michelle and beckoned Charlie over with a wave of his hand.

"Judging by the farmer's reaction, this picture has something to do with the key Lilith is after."

"Oh my God!" Charlie exclaimed softly before she snatched the wood frame from the other woman's hands. "It can't be!"

"Can't be what?" Sam asked, scrunching his brow in confusion.

"It can't be this simple. Nothing is," she whispered with fingertips pressed to her lips.

Dean crossed his arms over his chest and said, "Any chance you'd be willing to share with the rest of the class, Chuck?"

"This," she replied, pointing at the necklace around the chief's neck. "It's called 'The Warrior Sun', a mystical amulet created by the joint efforts of five shamans, one from each of the Civilized Tribes. It was believed to have given its bearer the ability to defy death. Some argued that it was even capable of resurrecting the dead."

"Necromancy?" Sam said raising an eyebrow. "You're serious?"

Charlie nodded.

"And you know all this how?" Dean interjected.

This time she rolled her eyes. "You do recall that I graduated college, don't you, Dean? I have a degree in anthropology from Texas A&M, summa cum laude. And I've seen it before."

"Well, hell. I guess Sammy ain't the only geek around here after all," he said, grinning and clapping his brother on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Dean," Sam laughed and then asked Charlie, "Where'd you see this thing at anyway?"

"It was on exhibit in the museum where I worked in Houston, on loan from another museum in North Carolina. The showing was a two week gig. It should be back in Cherokee by now," she answered.

"Guess that's where we're headed next," Dean announced, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. "So, who's hungry?"

* * *

Less than twenty-four hours later in the tiny hamlet of Cherokee, North Carolina, Charlie and Michelle traded their jeans and tee shirts for snug black pencil skirts and crisp white blouses. Dean had worked his magic at a local copy shop, creating brand new credentials that declared them interns from Duke University. They flashed their new ID's at the receptionist then headed upstairs towards the museum's administrative offices.

"What are we looking for again?" Michelle asked as she opened the curator's office door and slipped her lock pick back into her attaché case.

Charlie followed her inside the large office and closed the heavy, glass paned door behind them. She lowered the blinds and turned the lock before stepping behind the large desk that dominated the room.

"An amulet," Charlie said, answering the hunter's question. "It's about three inches in diameter. It will look a lot like a dream catcher but it's got pieces of bone hanging from it and a large red stone in the center. My friend in Houston said the curator confirmed that the piece is here in his office. She said the guy's something of a perv and after a little prodding and a few naughty suggestions, confessed he hadn't placed the amulet back in the vault just yet."

The pair searched the office thoroughly, rifling through drawers, cupboards and shelves but came up empty handed. Frustrated yet unwilling to give up, Charlie tried the curator's desk one last time. In the bottom left hand drawer she hit pay dirt when she discovered the drawer had a false bottom. She bit back a whoop of delight when her fingers curled around a small wooden box.

Michelle, hearing her companion's happy squeak, rushed to the desk and had to smother a gasp of surprise. The amulet was beautiful, unlike anything she'd ever seen. "Is that it?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Yeah," Charlie replied as she plucked the charm from it's resting place and after depositing it in a vellum stationery envelope tucked it inside her blouse. "Now let's get the hell outta here."

"Right behind you," Michelle agreed, shutting the box and setting it back inside the drawer.

They made it as far as the door when voices in the hallway brought them up short. If they were discovered, jail time would be the least of their worries. Son of a bitch, Charlie cursed silently. She shot Michelle a worried look and mouthed "what now?".

The brunette's answer was to make a quick grab for the taller woman's waist before reaching up and fisting a hand in her hair, effectively destroying the one hundred and fifty dollar up-do. Charlie's eyes widened in understanding seconds before she felt Michelle's mouth take her own. The lips that brushed over hers were soft and full, the tongue that delved inside was warm and insistent. As the footsteps outside grew closer, the women both sensed the need to up the ante and make their act a bit more convincing.

When the short, balding curator opened his office door, Michelle's arms were pinned above her head against the wall and one of her legs was hiked up around Charlie's hip with her skirt pushed back to reveal a good deal of firm, tanned thigh. The man's eyes bulged and he sputtered, simultaneously aghast and aroused by the scene playing out inside his office.

Charlie deliberately sucked on Michelle's bottom lip before pulling away and releasing her grip on the shorter woman's wrists. She turned what she hoped would pass for passion glazed eyes on the curator and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. His skin was flushed crimson with beads of sweat dotting his forehead. Score one for Michelle in the fast thinking department. From the looks of it, the man was hoping for a continuation of their performance.

"I'm so sorry," Charlie said as she adjusted her tortoise shell eye glasses before reaching up to smooth her hair. "The door was open and well, we just needed somewhere to escape for a minute or two."

With a lascivious grin, the man replied, "No problem at all. Feel free to drop in any time, ladies. Any time at all."

Offering him a coy grin, Michelle tugged down her skirt and pushed away from the wall. "That might cost you."

Outside, parked at the curb, Dean and Sam watched, open-mouthed, as the scene played out. Both men's fingers tightened on the binoculars they held to their eyes. Of all the possible scenarios either could have imagined, this just wasn't among them.

"Dude," Dean said thickly. "That was fucking hot!"

It took Sam a moment to find his voice. When he finally replied, he surprised himself by how calm he sounded. "Dean, that's the mother of my child you're currently drooling over."

"So what? She was just making out with _my _Chuck and I say it was hot."

Sam lowered his binoculars and tossed a curious glance at his brother. "_Your _Chuck?"

"Shut up," his brother answered. "Hey, here they come."

The two women made their way to the Impala as quickly as they could without looking suspicious. They both slid into the backseat where they promptly erupted into hysterical laughter.

"Did you get it?" Dean asked, catching Charlie's eye in the rear view mirror.

She nodded and wiped a tear from her eye. "Yeah, we got it. Let's get out of here."

Starting the car, he looked back over his shoulder at her. "Everything go okay, Chuck? You're looking a little flushed."

Charlie sobered instantly. He couldn't possibly know what had happened in the curator's office. Could he? She glanced at Sam and groaned, noting the way he bit his lip before looking away. Somehow, someway the boys _knew_. They were never going to live this one down.

With a heated look, Dean asked, "How about an encore?"

"Shut up," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Ah, come on, Chuck," he whined playfully. "Just a little tongue. That's all I'm asking."

Charlie smacked the back of his head but was laughing as she said, "Oh, for fuck's sake, Dean. Grow up."

"Spoilsport," he mumbled while shifting into drive.

Grinning, she replied, "Prick."


	25. Delay

As much as it pains me to do so, I'm going to leave one of those explanatory author's notes. **cringes**

Fear not, dear readers, I have not abandoned this story. As it stands, the next few chapters are in the works and hopefully will be posted in the not too distant future. Unfortunately, my professional life is interfering in my creative process at the moment. Please be patient as I wade through all the tedious trappings that go along with my job. I promise to give you all another installment soon.

Cheers!  
Nancy


	26. Chapter 26

Sorry for the delay, folks. Things have been absolutely in-sane around here lately. Big things are afoot so any of you out there who are the praying sort, please remember me and mine in the coming weeks. So, with that said...on with the story. I've re-written Chapter 25 as you can see. I wasn't happy with the way my last posted draft turned out. It didn't really mesh with the direction I'm going to be taking the story and was intended to be more of an interlude than anything else. Hope you like this version better. Cheers!

* * *

The steady thump-thump of a headboard hitting the wall accompanied by a seemingly unending chorus of giggles and moans left little to the imagination. Okay, so she had to give Dean points for stamina, just none for tact. Apparently in Dean-speak, the pounding of a fist against the wall was a signal to up the volume and tempo. Michelle groaned and slapped a pillow over her ear trying to muffle the sounds of Charlie and Dean's rather vocal lovemaking. They'd been at it for more than three hours now, pausing now and again before moving on to innings two through four.

She peered into the darkness to the other bed in the room where Sam lay on his back, his bare chest illuminated by the thin sliver of light creeping in between the gap in the polyester curtains that covered the room's only window. Like Michelle, he'd pulled a pillow over his head to drown out the sounds coming from next door, his body rigid with tension.

And what a body it was. Sure, she'd seen it, felt it while playing Super 8 for Ruby but it was getting harder and harder for Michelle to keep her hands and lips to herself. Nights like this one - when Dean tossed Sam his duffel and tossed him out of their room - had become more frequent since Bobby had left for Missouri to do research on the whole Apocalypse thing. When the cat's away, the mice will…well, apparently they'll fuck like rabbits.

Groaning, Michelle tossed her pillow across the bed and sat up, drawing her knees into her chest and looping her arms around them. For a long moment, she debated turning on the light on the tiny table between the two beds. Sam made the decision for her. He sat up and flipped it on, turning concerned eyes her direction.

"You okay?" he asked.

She swallowed hard at the sight of all that golden-brown skin and curled her fingers into her biceps to keep from reaching for him. Nodding, she managed a "yeah" before looking away.

Sam's eyebrows shot up skeptically. "Are you sure?"

A second "yeah" was drowned out by the now familiar grunting that signified that Dean was coming and coming hard. "Oh, for fuck's sake!" Michelle exclaimed, throwing herself back against the pillows. "What'd he do? Eat a bottle of Viagra? This is getting ridiculous."

Snorting, Sam replied, "Hey, it's your fault you know."

Brown eyes narrowed on him viciously. "How the hell is this my fault?"

"You're the one who initiated that little girly show earlier. Seeing two beautiful women kissing the way you two were is enough to send any man into sexual overload."

"You're not serious?" she asked, incredulous. "That's what all this is about?"

When Sam smirked at her, Michelle groaned a second time. The near constant desire she grown accustomed to over the past week flared to life again. Perfect, just fucking perfect. She shoves her tongue down her friend's throat, saving their collective asses and Charlie's the one who gets to reap the benefits. Meanwhile, Michelle was stuck with Sir-fucking-Galahad.

"Fucking perfect," she muttered aloud this time.

"Wanna give them a run for their money?" Sam asked with a grin so wicked Michelle was certain she'd imagined it.

"What did you just say?"

He blushed as he clarified, "Not really, I mean. Just make a bunch of noise. And stuff."

"Seriously, Sam. That's lame. Besides, this was what? The fifth time they've gone at it tonight? He's gotta run out of energy sooner or later."

Just then the headboard slammed into the wall again and Sam said, "Yeah, I'm putting my money on later."

Shaking her head, Michelle flopped back down on the bed and screamed into her pillow.

* * *

Two days later they weren't any closer to determining just what the key unlocked, or more importantly where to find the damned gate. And two nights later, Dean and Charlie were back at it again leaving Sam and Michelle closeted away in the next room with tension slowly building between them.

For Michelle, it was nothing new. She'd had a long, long time to get used to her growing attraction. But for Sam it was something else entirely. Guilt ate away at him. Little by little it was taking him over, filling him with bitter regret and an unfamiliar - and completely inappropriate - longing. What he'd done to Michelle had been, in its simplest form, rape. His actions had been unforgivable. Allowing himself to want her, to bury himself inside her, was one hundred percent out of the question.

Sam coughed and scratched the back of his neck when the thumping started in full force. "So," he said thickly. "I'm just gonna…I'm gonna take a shower." A second later the bathroom door slammed behind him and Michelle was left to wonder just what the hell that was about.

Any deliberation over his strange behavior was cast aside and forgotten the moment she felt a light fluttering inside her belly. Just a tiny flicker of motion, like the flap of butterfly wings and it was gone, so brief she thought she might have imagined it. She pressed her palm to her stomach and gasped when she felt it a second time.

"Sam!" she shouted wildly. "Sam! Hurry!"

In two seconds flat, he was kneeling between her feet, dripping wet and naked, cupping her shoulders and asking her what was wrong. With watery eyes, Michelle pulled his left hand down and laid it over the small, round bump of her belly.

"I don't understand," he said, his voice a little shaky from the fear he'd felt when she'd cried out his name. "Wha - ?" The word died in his throat the moment he felt the baby move beneath his hand. "Wait. Is that?"

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah, it is."

"Wow," he breathed out in awe. Then he raised his eyes to meet hers and felt the whole world simply fall away. Every single argument he'd made against this suddenly didn't seem to matter. All that mattered was this, the life that they'd created. Okay, so maybe Michelle hadn't had an actual say so in its creation but she was fast becoming far more important to him than Ruby ever had been. She was smart and witty and stubborn. She was fierce, loyal, determined. She'd been possessed by a demon for months and had emerged from its hold strong and forgiving. He didn't deserve her but Sam was suddenly very afraid that he just might not care whether he deserved her or not. Part of him had already, on some primitive level, claimed her as his own. Now, feeling his son move beneath their hands, he knew he'd never let her go.

Without realizing he was moving, Sam leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers, half expecting her to either hit him or run screaming for the hills. When she did neither, he risked it a second time, this time letting the kiss linger, his tongue slipping out to trace the seam of her lips. Michelle moaned quietly, a needy, almost desperate little sound, before raising her hands to his chest and fisting them in his shirt.

"Sam," she sighed against his lips. "Please don't…"

He tore himself away and stumbled back to sit on the opposite bed, his head in his hands. Moisture glistened in his eyes when he finally looked up at her and said, "I'm sorry, Michelle. I didn't mean…I'm sorry."

Knowing he'd misunderstood, Michelle pushed herself to her feet and pulled her sweater over her head, letting it drop to the floor beside his feet. Her bra followed. She was straddling Sam's hips with her mouth fastened to the little mole just above his collarbone by the time her actions finally registered.

"Michelle," he whispered hoarsely. "What are you doing?"

"What's it feel like?" she replied, nibbling her way up his neck to his ear. "If you'd let me finish a minute ago, I was asking you not to stop." Pulling back to look in his eyes, she cupped his jaw and said, "I want you, Sam. Want your mouth and hands on me. Wanna feel you inside me."

Though he hadn't known it, Michelle's permission was what Sam had needed, was all he'd needed. Growling, he flipped her onto her back and quickly peeled off her jeans. He grabbed one of her ankles and tugged her to the edge of the bed where he tossed her thighs over his shoulders before finding her with his mouth. A shrill scream rent the air as Michelle's orgasm was ripped from her body with the first swipe of Sam's tongue against her sensitive flesh.

He was grinning as he crawled up her body to settle between her legs but the grin dissolved into a groan when she pushed up onto her elbows and licked his face clean, tasting herself and the salt of his skin. She whispered all the things she wanted him to do to her and all the things she wanted to do to him, pushing him closer and closer to losing all control. Sam braced himself on one hand and reached down with the other to align their bodies.

Michelle's back arced at the first bump of his rigid flesh against her opening. "Yes!" she moaned. "Fuck me, Sam. Please!"

The words were barely out of her mouth before he was buried to the hilt inside her tight heat. For a long moment he didn't move, just rested his forehead against hers. Then he was withdrawing only to slam back home, filling her once more and causing her to cry out his name in a broken chant. Over and over, he pounded into her, holding nothing back. Sam slid his arms under her thighs, angling her up to drive himself deeper. Two more strokes and Michelle was coming on a keening wail, digging her nails into his ass. Sam's body shook as he followed a heartbeat later, grunting with the force of his own orgasm.

They were lying in a sweaty, tangled heap when a fist suddenly pounded against the wall. "Knock it off already!" they heard Dean shout.

"I don't know about you," Sam panted as he brushed damp tendrils of hair from Michelle's face. "But I'm just getting started."


End file.
